SOUTHERN  BRANCH, 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA, 

LIBRARY, 

(LOS  ANGELES,  CALIF. 


THE  MIRACLE 
OF  SAINT  ANTHONY 


THE  WORKS  OF  MAURICE   MAETERLINCK 

ESSAYS 

THE  TREASURE  OF  THE  HUMBLE 

WISDOM  AND  DESTINY 

THE  LIFE  or  THE  BEX 

THE  BURIED  TEMPLE 

THE  DOUBLE  GARDEN 

THE  MEASURE  OF  THE  HOURS 

ON  EMERSON,  AND  OTHER  ESSAYS 

OUR  ETERNITY 

THE  UNKNOWN  GUEST 

THE  WRACK  OF  THE  STORIC 

MOUNTAIN   PATHS 

PLAYS 

SISTER  BEATRICE,  AND  ARDIANE  AND  BARBE  BLEUE 

JOYZELLE,  AND  MONNA  VANNA 

THE  BLUE  BIRD,  A  FAIRY  PLAY 

MARY  MAGDALENE 

P£LLEAS  AND  MELISANDE,  AND  OTHER  PLAYS 

PRINCESS  MALEINE 

THE  INTRUDER,  AND  OTHER  PLAYS 

AGLAVAINE  AND  SELYSETTE 

THE  MIRACLE  OF  SAINT  ANTHONY 

THE   BETROTHAL;   A   SEQUEL  TO   THE   BLUE  BIRD 

POEMS 

HOLIDAY  EDITIONS 

OUR  FRIEND  THE  DOG 

THE  SWARM 

DEATH 

THOUGHTS   FROM    MAETERLINCK 

THE  BLUE  BIRD 

THE  LIKE  OF  THE  BEE 

NEWS  OF  SPRING  AND  OTHER  NATURE  STUDIES 

THE  LIGHT  BEYOND 


O/i 


e 


Cbritfi 


of 


ofiv 


ce  c/I5aetezlinc/i 


by 

^eixeiza  de 

with,  cfntzoduction  by 

fiuz  c&a-ttlett  cffl5aurice 


c/ioead  and  (Company 


COPYRIGHT,  1918 

BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY,  INC. 
All  Rights  Reserved 


A  5 


. 

/ 

TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE 

This   play   was   written    some    ten   or 
«•*  twelve  years  ago,  but  has  never  been  pub- 
lished or  performed  in  the  original.     A 
translation    in   two    acts   was   printed   in 
N).  Germany  a  few  years  before  the  war;  but 
the  present  is  the  only  authorized  version, 
in  its  final,  one-act  form,  that  has  hitherto 
y  appeared  in  any  language. 

ALEXANDER  TEIXEIRA  DE  MATTOS. 
CHELSEA,  27  February,  1918. 


CHARACTERS 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
GUSTAVE 

ACHILLE 

THE  DOCTOR 

THE  RECTOR  , 

JOSEPH 

THE  COMMISSARY  OF  POLICE 

A  POLICE-SERGEANT 

A  POLICEMAN 

MADEMOISELLE  HORTENSE 

VIRGINIE 

LEONTINE,  an  old  lady 

VALENTINE,  a  young  girl 

OTHER  RELATIONS  AND  GUESTS 

The  action  takes  place  in  the  present 
century,  in  a  small  Flemish  provincial 
town. 

7 


INTRODUCTION 

"  The  Miracle  of  St.  Anthony  " —  what- 
ever the  exact  date  of  its  writing,  and  that 
is  a  point  which  the  author  himself  has 
probably  forgotten, —  belongs  in  flavour 
and  spirit,  to  that  early  period  of  the  ca- 
reer of  the  Belgian  seer  and  mystic  to 
which  Mr.  James  Huneker  referred  when 
he  wrote  "  There  is  no  denying  the  fact 
that  at  one  time  Maeterlinck  meant  for 
most  people  a  crazy  crow,  masquerading 
in  tail  feathers  plucked  from  the  Swan  of 
Avon."  For  it  was  to  Shakespeare  that 
he  was  first  compared,  though  the  title 
"  the  Belgian  Shakespeare  "  was  applied 
ironically  by  some,  just  as  later  mani- 
9 


Introduction 

festations  of  his  genius  won  for  him  the 
appellation  of  "  the  Belgian  Emerson." 
But  "  The  Miracle  of  St.  Anthony  "  dif- 
fers from  the  other  plays  of  what  may  be 
called  "  the  early  Maeterlinck."  Most  of 
them,  to  quote  Mr.  Edward  Thomas,  have 
a  melancholy,  a  romance  of  unreality,  a 
morbidity,  combined  with  innocence,  which 
piques  our  indulgence.  He  has  no  irony 
to  put  us  on  the  defensive.  But  irony  is 
the  very  essence  of  "  The  Miracle  of  St. 
Anthony."  Nor  does  the  scene  of  the 
little  play  belong  to  that  land  of  illusion, 
that  mystic  border  country,  half  twilight 
and  half  mirage,  in  which  so  many  of  the 
early  plays  were  laid.  The  St.  Anthony 
from  whom  the  satire  takes  its  title  may 
be  the  blessed  St.  Anthony  of  Padua,  but 
the  atmosphere  is  unmistakably  the  gray, 
sombre  Flemish  atmosphere  that  Maeter- 
linck knew  in  his  early  youth,  while  the 
10 


Introduction 

Marionettes  who  speak  the  lines  were 
drawn,  not  from  Fairy-land,  but  from 
some  town  of  the  Low-Countries. 

Maeterlinck's  nationality  was  not  a 
mere  chance  of  birth,  but  a  heritage  of 
many  generations.  The  Flemish  family 
of  which  he  was  born  in  Ghent  on  August 
29,  1862,  had  for  six  centuries  been  settled 
in  the  neighborhood.  His  childhood  was 
passed  at  Oostacker,  in  a  house  on  the 
bank  of  a  canal  connecting  Ghent  with 
Terneuzen.  So  near  was  the  water  that 
the  ships  seemed  to  be  sliding  through  the 
garden  itself.  The  seven  years  spent  at 
the  Jesuit  college  of  St.  Barbe  were  not 
happy  years,  but  there  were  developed  his 
first  literary  aspirations,  and  there  he 
formed  certain  friendships  that  lasted  into 
later  life.  At  the  University,  where  he 
studied  for  the  Bar,  he  met  £mile  Ver- 
haeren,  who  was  destined  to  stand  out  with 
11 


Introduction 

King  Albert,  Cardinal  Mercier,  and 
Maeterlinck,  as  one  of  the  great  figures  of 
the  land  when  Belgium  came  to  experience 
her  agony. 

But  it  was  not  in  Maeterlinck  to  settle 
down  to  a  lawyer's  work  and  a  bourgeois 
life.  "Like  Rodenbach,"  said  M.  Ed- 
ouard  Schure,  "  he  had  dreamed  along- 
side the  sleeping  waters  of  Belgium  and  in 
the  dead  cities,  and,  though  his  dream  did 
not  become  a  paralysing  reverie,  thanks  to 
his  vigorous  and  healthy  body,  he  was 
already  troubled  in  such  a  way  that  he  was 
unlikely  to  accept  the  conditions  of  a  legal 
career."  So,  when  at  twenty  four,  he 
made  his  first  trip  to  Paris,  though  the 
visit  was  professedly  in  the  interests  of  his 
studies,  it  was  with  the  result  that  he 
plunged  definitely  and  whole  heartedly  into 
literature.  To  Villiers  de  1'Isle  Adam, 
and  others  of  the  ultra  modern  school,  he 
12 


Introduction 

was  introduced  by  an  old  co-pain  of  the 
Jesuit  college,  Gregoire  Le  Roy.  Le  Roy 
read  to  the  group  Maeterlinck's  "  The 
Massacre  of  the  Innocents,"  a  perfectly 
Flemish  piece  of  objective  realism.  It 
was  applauded,  and  soon  after  appeared 
in  "  La  Plei'de,"  a  short-lived  review  which 
also  printed  some  of  the  poems  collected  in 
"  Serres  Chaudes." 

That  first  stay  in  Paris  was  one  of  about 
six  months.  Returning  to  Ghent,  he  con- 
formed to  the  wishes  of  his  family  to  the 
extent  of  dabbling  a  little  at  the  Bar.  But 
his  heart  was  with  "  La  Jeune  Belgique," 
to  which  he  had  been  introduced  by  Roden- 
bach,  author  of  "  Bruges  la  Morte,"  and 
for  which  he  was  writing  his  poems.  Then 
in  1889,  when  he  was  twenty-seven  years 
of  age,  "  Serres  Chaudes  "  was  published, 
and  with  it  went  the  last  tie  binding  him  to 
the  law. 

13 


Introduction 

Continuing  to  live  in  his  native  Oos- 
tacker,  his  days  were  divided  between  writ- 
ing, tending  his  bees,  and  outdoor  pastimes. 
As  a  member  of  the  Civic  Guard  of  Ghent 
he  was  as  poor  an  amateur  soldier  as  Bal- 
zac had  been  when  enrolled  in  the  National 
Guard  of  the  France  of  his  time.  His 
musket  was  allowed  to  rust  until  the  night 
before  an  inspection.  Material  surround- 
ings meant  little  to  him.  As  with  Barrie, 
the  four  walls  were  enough.  He  could 
people  the  homely  room  to  suit  his  fancy. 
In  imagination  a  table  became  a  mountain 
range,  a  chair  the  nave  of  a  superb  cathe- 
dral, a  side-board  a  limitless  expanse  of 
surging  ocean.  Through  the  window  he 
could  look  out  over  a  country  suggesting 
the  scene  of  his  early  play,  "  Les  Sept 
Princesses,"  "  A  dark  land  of  marshes,  of 
pools,  and  of  oak  and  pine  forests.  Be- 
tween enormous  willows  a  straight  and 
14 


Introduction 

gloomy  canal,  on  which  a  great  ship  of  war 
advances." 

"  La  Princesse  Maleine,"  which  also  ap- 
peared in  1889,  had  been  first  privately 
printed  by  the  author  himself,  on  a  hand 
press.  With  it  Maeterlinck  was  launched 
into  the  fierce  light  of  fame.  Octave  Mir- 
beau  wrote  of  it  in  the  Figaro  of  Paris. 
He  said  that  no  one  could  be  more  un- 
known than  the  author,  but  that  his  book 
was  a  masterpiece,  "  comparable  —  shall  I 
dare  say  it?  superior  in  beauty  to  the  most 
beautiful  in  Shakespeare. *'  There  were 
less  generous  critics  who  suggested  that  the 
play  was  Shakespeare,  because  it  had  been 
made  with  scraps  of  Shakespeare.  A 
champion  of  Maeterlinck  retorted  that  in 
comparison  with  Maleine  and  Hjalmar  the 
characters  of  Shakespeare  were  marion- 
ettes. So  the  storm  raged,  to  the  author's 
infinite  disgust.  Finally  in  a  spirit  of 
15 


Introduction 

modesty  and  frank  acknowledgment  he 
called  the  play  "  Shakespearterie."  There 
was  no  pose  in  that  assumption  of 
humility.  From  all  testimony  he  has  ever 
been  the  same.  Invited  to  a  dinner  his 
acceptance  has  been  conditional  on  abso- 
lute simplicity.  "  After  all,  I  am  a  peas- 
ant." It  was  Gerard  Harry  who  quoted 
that.  Again,  at  the  end  of  a  first  night  of 
one  of  his  plays,  he  has  been  described  as 
"  modest,  simple,  altogether  without  dis- 
play in  dress  or  manner.  His  gestures 
were  gentle  with  reflection,  his  voice  low 
and  rarely  heard.  He  had  no  pride  of  suc- 
cess, but  an  air  at  once  uneasy  and  de- 
tached, as  if  tired  of  being  there.  His 
deep  blue  eye  was  cold  and  mournful,  like 
a  mirror  that  retains  the  images  of  in- 
definite and  impalpable  things,  as  Barbey 
d'Aurevilly  says  the  eyes  always  are  of 
those  who  look  more  within  than  without. 
16 


Introduction 

His  brow  was  deep  and  square  and  shone 
pale.  He  made  the  observer  think  of  his 
own  untranslatable  words : 

Sous  1'eau  du  songe  qui  s'eleve 
Mon  ame  a  peur,  mon  ame  a  peur. 

The  same  writer  says  that,  by  way  of 
contrast,  the  playwright  keeps  bees  and 
teaches  a  dog  to  sing;  he  calls  him  a  sports- 
man, a  man  always  getting  about,  a  great 
drinker  of  ale  —  a  great  boy,  a  Bohemian. 
Here  also  may  be  discerned  the  writer  in 
praise  of  the  sword,  the  fist,  and  the  auto- 
mobile, the  friend  of  the  bull-dog  and  the 
creator  of  Tylo.  That  was  describing  the 
Maeterlinck  of  the  early  days.  He  seems 
never  to  have  greatly  changed.  Was  not 
almost  the  last  picture  of  him  that  we  had 
before  the  outbreak  of  the  Great  War  one 
of  poet  playing  with  pugilist  at  the  manly 
art  of  self-defense  —  the  author  of 

ir 


Introduction 

"  L'Oiseau  Bleu  "  sparring  and  wrestling 
daily,  with  the  French  champion  Carpen- 
tier?  * 

New  influences  began  to  show  in  Maeter- 
linck's work.  His  Introduction  to  his 
translation  from  the  Flemish  of  Ruys- 
broeck  1'Admirable's  "  L'Ornement  des 
Noces  Spirituelles  "  made  public  his  inter- 
est in  Plato,  Plotinous,  Novalis,  Jacob 
Behman,  and  Coleridge.  He  published  a 
translation  of  NovahYs  "  Disciples  et 
Sais."  His  feeling  for  Emerson  had  be- 
come such  that  he  wrote  an  Introduction  to 
the  Essays  of  the  American  that  had  been 
translated  into  French  by  I.  Will.  To 
that  period  of  his  career  as  a  playwright 
belong  "  Les  Sept  Princesses,"  the  little 
plays,  "  L'Intruse,"  and  "  Les  Aveugles," 
"  Pelleas  et  Melisande,"  "  Alladine  et 
Palomides,"  "  Interieur,"  and  "  La  Mort 
de  Tintagiles."  Then,  in  1896,  he  left 
18 


Introduction 

Oostacker  for  good,  and  settled  in  Paris. 
In  the  same  year  he  published  "  Le  Tresor 
des  Humbles,"  his  first  volume  of  Essays, 
and  "  Aglavaine  et  Selysette."  In  a  let- 
ter to  Madame  Maeterlinck  he  said  that 
Aglavaine  brought  him  "  a  new  atmos- 
phere, a  will  to  happiness,  a  power  to 
hope."  Henceforth  her  light  will  direct 
him  in  a  "  serene,  happy  and  consoling 
course."  Also  it  was  about  that  time  that 
his  life  was  joined  to  the  life  of  Georgette 
Leblanc. 

In  "  La  Vie  Beige,"  published  in  1905, 
Camille  Lemonnier  told  of  Maeterlinck's 
first  meeting  with  the  talented  woman  who 
was  to  become  his  wife.  It  took  place  in  a 
house  in  the  Rue  Ducale  in  Brussels,  the 
home  of  Edmond  Picard,  the  great  bar- 
rister and  patron  of  Belgian  literature. 
One  midnight,  after  a  performance  of 
Strindberg's  "  Father "  at  the  Theatre 
19 


Introduction 

du  Pare,  all  were  invited  there  for  supper. 
Maeterlinck,  who  still  lived  in  Flanders, 
had  left  his  bees,  and  was  there,  grave, 
silent,  dreaming,  a  little  out  of  his  element, 
as  he  always  was  in  the  city.  He  was 
truly  himself  only  in  the  country,  his  pipe 
in  his  coarse  peasant  fingers,  filling  its  black 
bowl  with  a  fresh  pinch  of  tobacco  from 
time  to  time.  I  had  known  him  at  the 
house  of  the  painter,  Claus,  at  whose  door 
he  sometimes  leaped  from  his  wheel,  bare- 
necked, muscular,  broad  of  shoulders  and 
loins,  a  regular  country  boy  from  the  vil- 
lage. This  great,  silent,  contemplative 
spirit  little  knew  that  he  was  about  to  see 
appear,  under  the  guise  of  the  charming 
Georgette  Blanc,  the  very  visage  of  his 
destiny.  A  great  silence  spread  from  the 
far  end  of  the  hall,  and  suddenly  she  en- 
tered, stately  and  slow,  with  the  jewel  of 
her  ferroniere  on  her  forehead,  like  a  sign 
20 


Introduction 

of  the  empire,  in  the  long  swishing  of  her 
train.  Picard  presented  them ;  she  gave  a 
little  cry;  and  he  looked  at  her,  embar- 
rassed, with  his  deep-set  peasant  eyes, 
bowing  awkwardly,  while,  with  a  deep 
reverence  like  a  rite,  the  beautiful  actress, 
with  the  ceremonious  grace  of  a  little 
queen  of  Byzantium,  dedicated  to  him, 
without  a  word,  the  homage  of  her  ar- 
tist's worship.  Maeterlinck  looked  at  her 
a  great  deal,  but  scarcely  spoke  to  her  dur- 
ing supper. 

But  if  his  tongue  was  backward,  there 
were  other  ways  of  wooing.  "  Le  Tresor 
des  Humbles "  was  dedicated  to  her. 
"  La  Sagesse  et  la  Destinee  "  was  dedi- 
cated to  her,  "  as  the  result  of  her  col- 
laboration in  thought  and  example :  he  had 
only  to  listen  to  her  words  and  follow  her 
life  with  his  eyes  when  he  wrote  the  book; 
for  to  do  so  was  to  follow  the  words,  the 
21 


Introduction 

movements,  the  habits  of  wisdom  itself." 
At  any  rate  the  woman  understood.  Per- 
haps she  helped  matters  along  a  little. 
Perhaps  her  poise  served  to  put  the  shy 
peasant  at  his  ease.  It  was  a  wise  union, 
a  union  destined  for  happiness.  "  Truly," 
said  Gerard  Harry  of  it,  "  henceforward 
he  looks  upon  life  less  desperately  and  less 
fearfully."  The  glimpses  that  Mr.  Ed- 
ward Thomas  gave  of  the  menage  show 
Maeterlinck  as  he  was  in  the  last  year  or 
two  of  world  peace,  come  to  fifty  years,  in 
the  full  vigor  of  his  mature  powers,  at  the 
height  of  his  popularity  and  material  suc- 
cess. Nearly  all  his  books  are  multiplied 
and  repeated,  by  new  editions  and  trans- 
lations into  many  languages.  Always  in- 
dependent, money  could  only  add  ease  and 
opportunities  for  gratifying  minor  tastes. 
He  spends  the  winter  at  Quatre  Chemins 
near  Grasse,  in  the  south  of  France,  the 
22 


Introduction 

summer  at  the  ancient  Benedictine  Abbey 
of  St.  Wandrille,  in  the  Department  of 
Seine-Inferieure.  But  there  is  hardly  a 
moment  when  Madame  Maeterlinck  is  not 
a  part  of  his  life  and  work.  She  plays 
"  Macbeth  "  in  her  husband's  translation, 
while  he  smokes  a  pipe  of  peace  as  well  as 
in  solitude.  The  pipe,  according  to 
Gerard  Harry,  contains  a  denicotinised 
herb;  for  thus,  by  a  piece  of  heroism  dis- 
covered by  his  hero-worshipper,  Maeter- 
linck circumvents  his  insatiable  craving  for 
tobacco  in  his  working  hours.  "  By  wise 
disposition,"  says  Madame  Maeterlinck, 
"  he  has  reduced  his  weakness,  economised 
his  strength,  balanced  his  faculties,  multi- 
plied his  energies,  disciplined  his  instincts." 
"  Yet,"  says  Mr.  Thomas,  "  he  con- 
tinues to  write.  He  is  early  to  rise  and 
go  to  his  garden  and  his  bees,  for  which 
his  liking  is  now  near  thirty  years  old. 
23 


Introduction  > 

Two  hours,  always  exactly  two  hours,  of 
work  follow.  Then  he  goes  out  again, 
canoeing,  motoring,  cycling,  or  walking. 
He  reads  in  the  evening  and  goes  to  bed 
in  good  time."  The  work  of  these  two 
hours  is  prepared  easily  and  quietly  during 
the  pleasures  and  other  duties  of  the  day. 
Madame  Maeterlinck  compares  him  taking 
up  his  work  to  a  child  leaving  its  games 
and  going  on  with  them  as  soon  as  allowed 
—  an  innocent  and  ambiguous  comparison. 
She  implies  that  his  work  is  sub-con- 
sciously matured  and  methodically  put  on 
paper,  and  that  his  natural  tranquillity  and 
the  surroundings  and  conditions  of  his  life 
have  long  been  felicitously  combined;  and 
she  says  it  might  seem  that  the  mysterious 
powers  have  woven  between  him  and  the 
world  a  veil  which  allows  him  a  clear 
vision  whilst  yet  himself  invisible,  as  they 
have  favored  him  by  the  gift  of  a  home 
24 


Introduction 

not  less  wonderful  than  the  castles  he  im- 
agined for  Alladine  and  Selysette  and 
Meleine. 

However  in  a  consideration  of  "  The 
Miracle  of  St.  Anthony,"  the  life  of  the 
man,  his  place  as  a  philosopher,  and  his 
achievements  as  a  poet  are  only  indirectly 
concerned.  The  little  play  counts  first  of 
all  in  its  relation  to  "  La  Princesse  Ma- 
liene,"  "  Les  Sept  Princesses,"  and  espe- 
cially, "  Les  Aveugles,"  and  "  L'Intruse." 
Perhaps  closest  to  it  of  them  all  is  "  L'In- 
truse." To  recall  that  play.  It  does  not 
need  the  Dutch  clock  in  the  corner  to  fix 
the  scene  in  the  Lowlands.  In  a  dimly 
lighted  room  In  an  old  country  house  the 
grandfather,  the  father,  the  uncle,  the 
three  daughters  are  sitting  about  a  table. 
It  has  rained  the  whole  week  and  the 
night  without  is  damp  and  cold.  In  the 
next  room  lies  the  sick  mother.  The 
25 


Introduction 

father  is  hopeful,  relying  on  the  assurances 
of  the  doctors.  But  not  the  grandfather. 
They  are  expecting  some  one.  They 
speak  in  low  voices,  at  random.  Besides 
the  woman  in  the  other  room  there  is  a 
young  child. 

THE  UNCLE  —  The  little  one  would 
cause  me  more  anxiety  than  your  wife. 
It  is  now  several  weeks  since  he  was 
born,  and  he  has  scarcely  stirred.  He 
has  not  cried  once  all  the  time!  He 
is  like  a  wax  doll. 

THE  GRANDFATHER  —  I  think  he 
will  be  deaf  —  dumb,  too,  perhaps  — 
the  usual  result  of  marriages  between 
cousins.  (A  reproving  silence.} 

THE  FATHER  —  I  could  almost  wish 
him  ill  for  the  suffering  he  has  caused 
his  mother. 

THE  UNCLE  —  Be  reasonable.     It  is 
26 


Introduction 

not  the  poor  little  thing's  fault.     He  is 

quite  alone  in  the  room. 

More  and  more  is  the  old  man  troubled. 
He  complains  that  he  can  no  longer  hear 
the  nightingales,  and  that  some  one  must 
be  in  the  garden.  The  trees  in  the  park 
are  trembling  as  if  some  one  was  brushing 
a  way  through,  the  swans  are  scared,  and 
the  fishes  diving  in  the  pond,  but  the  watch- 
dog does  not  bark.  Through  the  glass 
door,  that  some  mysterious  agency  has 
opened,  the  cold  rushes  into  the  room. 
The  sound  of  a  scythe  being  sharpened  is 
heard  outside.  The  child  that  has  before 
been  silent,  begins  to  cry.  There  is  a 
knock  at  the  door.  The  Father  partly 
opens  it,  and  speaks  to  the  servant,  who 
answers,  remaining  on  the  outside. 

THE  GRANDFATHER  —  Your  sister  is 

at  the  door  ? 

27 


Introduction 

THE  UNCLE  —  I  can  see  only  the 
servant. 

THE  FATHER  —  It  was  only  the  serv- 
ant. (To  the  servant)  Who  was  that, 
that  came  into  the  house  ? 
A  note  is  struck  similar  to  one  used  later 
by  Lord  Dunsany  in  "  A  Night  at  an  Inn." 
Some  invisible  force  is  pushing  open  the 
door.  The  servant  protests  that  it  is  not 
she,  as  she  is  standing  three  yards  away 
from  the  door.  The  Grandfather  is  con- 
scious of  a  new  presence.  "  And  who  is 
that  sitting  there?"  he  asks.  "  But  there 
is  no  one  there,"  he  is  told.  But  he  will 
not  believe  them,  maintaining  that  in  pity 
they  are  deceiving  him.  A  ray  of  moon- 
light penetrates,  throwing  strange  gleams. 
The  clock  strikes  midnight;  at  the  last 
stroke  there  is  a  sound  as  of  some  one  ris- 
ing in  haste.  Cries  of  terror  from  the 
child's  room:  quick  and  heavy  steps. 
28 


Introduction 

Then  silence.  The  door  of  the  sick 
woman's  room  slowly  opens,  and  the  Sister 
of  Mercy  appears  on  the  threshold.  She 
bows  as  she  makes  the  sign  of  the  Cross. 

In  "  Les  Aveugles  "  Maeterlinck  turned 
from  a  typically  Flemish  setting  to  a  forest 
on  a  small  island  — "  a  very  ancient  north- 
ern forest,  eternal  of  aspect,  beneath  a  sky 
profoundly  starred."  Six  old  blind  men 
are  on  the  right,  and  six  old  blind  women 
on  the  left.  They  are  from  a  Home  for 
the  Blind  and  they  are  in  the  charge  of  a 
priest  —  a  very  old  priest,  wrapped  in  a 
wide  black  cloak,  and  whose  eyes,  "  dumb 
and  fixed,  no  longer  gaze  at  the  visible  side 
of  eternity,  and  seem  bleeding  beneath  a 
multitude  of  immemorial  sorrows  and  of 
tears."  Fear  is  in  the  hearts  of  the 
priest's  charges.  They  are  startled  by  the 
flutter  of  wings,  by  the  touch  of  the  falling 
snow,  by  the  barking  of  dogs.  They  un- 
29 


Introduction 

derstand  nothing  save  the  sound  of  the  sea 
and  they  do  not  know  how  near  that  is. 
In  the  priest's  company  they  have  been  ex- 
ploring their  island,  which  has  "  a  moun- 
tain that  no  one  has  climbed,  valleys  with 
no  one  to  go  down  to,  and  caves  that  have 
not  been  entered  to  this  day."  They  know 
not  yet  that  the  priest  is  dead,  but  they  are 
conscious  that  something  has  happened  to 
him.  They  offer  conjectures,  they  dig  into 
the  past,  they  deplore  their  state.  At 
length  one  of  the  men  is  led  by  a  dog  to 
the  center,  where  the  body  of  the  priest  is. 
He  touches  a  face.  The  others  follow  and 
recognise  by  feeling  the  features  of  their 
protector.  What  are  they  to  do?  The 
only  seeing  eyes  are  those  of  a  child  at  its 
mother's  breast.  The  child  cries  at  a 
noise,  and  they  think  that  it  must  be  some- 
thing and  move  towards  the  sound  that  has 
provoked  the  cry.  Their  hope  is  that  the 
30 


Introduction 

men  from  the  light-house  will  see  them. 
At  last  the  footsteps  stop.  "  Who  are 
you?  "  asks  the  child's  mother.  But  only 
silence.  "  Have  pity  on  us,"  cries  the 
oldest  blind  woman. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  the  effectiveness 
of  this  piece,"  Mr.  Thomas  has  written, 
"  that  we  should  believe  the  blind  to  repre- 
sent mankind  bewildered  after  the  loss  of 
religion,  their  old  guide.  Whether  it  is 
true  or  not  that  religion  is  dead  and  men 
blind  without  it,  the  thought  is  so  stale 
that  in  its  nakedness  it  could  be  of  no 
value  to  any  piece  of  writing.  But  the 
sight  of  a  blind  man  sitting  still  or  tapping 
in  the  street  is  always  impressive;  and  to 
the  blind  company  in  the  play  are  added 
many  elements  of  mystery  and  terror  which 
enhance  this  impressiveness.  They  have 
at  the  start  little  more  humanity  than  the 
rocks  and  trees  among  which  they  sit,  ex- 
31 


Introduction 

cept  that  they  are  conscious  of  themselves 
and  one  another.  They  are  like  creatures 
suddenly  made  out  of  the  rocks  and  trees ; 
and  it  is  easy  to  picture  beings  of  equal 
humanity  standing  in  the  depths  of  a 
misty  wood  when  rain  falls  all  through  the 
day  at  autumn's  end.  Or  they  are  like  per- 
sonifications, so  that  we  feel  no  curiosity 
with  the  name  of  any  but  that  one  who 
says  for  Maeterlinck: 

We  have  never  seen  one  another.  We 
ask  one  another  questions,  and  we  reply; 
we  live  together,  we  are  always  together, 
but  we  know  not  what  we  are. 

It  was  Maeterlinck's  very  first  play, 
"  La  Princesse  Maleine,"  that  won  for  him 
the  dangerous  title  of  "  The  Belgian 
Shakespeare."  Now  and  then  a  writer  of 
our  own  land  has  done  something  that  has 
32 


Introduction 

caused  limited  or  injudicious  critics  to  speak 
of  him  as  "  The  American  Dickens  "  or 
"  The  American  Thackeray."  As  a  rule 
he  has  paid  a  sad  price  for  the  unfortunate 
comparison.  No  matter  how  innocent  the 
man  himself  has  been,  the  chorus  of  mock- 
ing, unthinking  laughter  has  been  in- 
evitable. In  the  case  of  Maeterlinck  ridi- 
cule was  only  momentary.  The  rush  of 
subsequent  achievement  was  so  swift. 
The  world  had  had  hardly  time  to  gasp  at 
Octave  Mirbeau's  "  The  Belgian  Shakes- 
peare "  before  some  one  else  was  referring 
to  Maeterlinck  as  "  The  Belgian  Emer- 
son." But  it  did  not  need  the  acute  mind 
of  a  Mirbeau  to  find  the  first  comparison. 
That  was  obvious.  How  obvious  a  few 
references  to  "  La  Princesse  Maleine  "  will 
show.  To  Maleine  herself  there  is  a 
flavor  of  Ophelia.  The  castle  of  Marcel- 
los,  her  father,  king  of  a  part  of  Holland, 
33 


Introduction 

might  be  the  Castle  of  Elsinore.  There, 
when  the  play  opens,  is  being  held  the  ban- 
quet to  celebrate  the  betrothal  of  Maleine 
and  Prince  Hjalmar.  The  watching 
guards  gossip  of  the  attentions  that  the 
Prince's  father,  old  Hjalmar,  king  of  an- 
other part  of  Holland,  has  been  paying  to 
the  exiled  Queen  Ann  of  Jutland.  A  quar- 
rel between  the  two  kings  over  the  table 
leads  to  war,  and  in  an  attack  on  the  castle 
most  of  the  defenders  are  killed  and 
Maleine  disappears.  Through  a  hole  in 
the  wall  of  the  tower  in  which  Maleine 
and  her  nurse  are  shut  up  for  safety,  they 
see  that  the  whole  land  has  been  laid  waste 
by  war  and  fire. 

In  the  course  of  subsequent  adventures 
Maleine  becomes  the  attendant  of  Ug- 
lyane,  the  daughter  of  the  wicked  Queen 
Ann,  whom  Hjalmar  is  now  to  marry.  In 
that  capacity  she  carries  to  her  mistress  a 
34 


Introduction 

false  message  saying  that  Hjalmar  is  not 
going  to  keep  a  tryst,  and  instead  goes 
herself.  Later  there  is  a  knocking  at  a 
door,  and  Maleine  enters  in  the  white  robes 
of  a  bride.  Queen  Ann  tells  old  Hjalmar 
that  he  must  choose  between  herself  and 
the  returned  Princess,  and  plans  to  make 
use  of  a  poison,  which  the  physician  deter- 
mines to  make  harmless.  Then  there  is 
another  storm,  and  Maleine  is  alone  in  the 
night  with  a  large  black  dog  quivering  in  a 
corner  of  the  room.  Old  Hjalmar  and 
Queen  Ann  come  to  her  door,  and  pretend- 
ing to  do  her  hair,  the  Queen  twists  a  rope 
round  Maleine's  neck  and  strangles  her. 
The  madman,  who  at  Maleine's  previous 
appearance,  pointing  at  her,  had  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  thrusts  his  head  in  at  the 
window  but  is  hurled  back  into  the  moat 
by  the  king.  The  murderess  puts  the 
corpse  to  bed.  In  the  fifth  and  last  act  the 
35 


Introduction 

same  storm  is  raging.  The  castle  is  struck 
by  lightning  and  a  mass  falls  into  the  moat. 
Within  all  are  asking  for  the  king  and 
Queen  Ann.  When  they  enter  there  are 
bloodstains  in  the  king's  white  hair. 
Maleine's  dead  body  is  discovered,  and  the 
king  drags  in  Ann,  proclaiming  her  guilt 
and  his  own.  Hjalmar  stabs  the  mur- 
deress and  then  kills  himself. 

In  "  Les  Sept  Princesses  "  there  is  a  vast 
hall  of  marble  with  seven  white  marble 
steps  covered  by  seven  pale  silken  cushions 
on  which  the  seven  princesses  are  sleeping. 
The  sun  is  setting,  and  in  its  fading  light 
may  be  seen  a  black  marshy  country  and 
oak  and  pine  forests.  Along  the  canal 
between  dark  willows,  a  great  warship  ad- 
vances. On  the  terrace  the  old  king  and 
queen  and  a  messenger  watch  the  approach- 
ing vessel.  The  king's  vision  fails  him  and 
it  is  the  queen  who  describes  the  full  spread 
36 


Introduction 

of  sail  touching  the  willows,  and  the  oars 
like  a  thousand  legs.  From  the  ship, 
when  the  anchor  drops,  the  prince  de- 
scends. He  is  shown  the  seven  sleepers, 
who  are  not  to  be  awakened,  as  the  doctor 
has  forbidden  it.  "  How  white  they  are, 
all  seven !  Oh,  how  beautiful  they  are,  all 
seven !  How  pale,  how  strange  they  are, 
all  seven!  But  why  are  they  asleep,  all 
seven?  "  says  the  prince.  He  indicates  his 
preference  for  one  of  the  seven.  "  That," 
says  the  queen,  "  is  Ursula,  who  has  waited 
seven  years  for  her  lover."  The  others 
are  Genevieve,  Helen,  Cristabel,  Made- 
leine, Claire,  and  Claribella.  Why  was 
Marcellus  so  long  in  coming?  Night  and 
day  they  have  been  watching  along  the 
canal.  The  sailors  turn  the  ship  to  a  mo- 
notonous song  with  the  burden,  "  We  shall 
return  no  more,  we  shall  return  no  more." 
37 

50995 


Introduction 

The  sisters  still  sleep.  The  queen  is 
frightened  at  the  plight  of  her  grand- 
daughters and  sobs  against  the  window, 
the  watchers  seek  to  enter,  but  neither  door 
nor  window  can  be  opened.  The  king  and 
Marcellus  make  their  way  in  through  a 
subterranean  passage.  All  the  sleepers 
but  Ursula  awake.  "  She  is  not  asleep," 
says  the  queen.  "  Pour  water  on  her. 
.  .  .  Open  the  door.  ...  It  is  too  late. 
.  .  .  Shut!  shut!"  All  cry,  shaking  the 
door,  and  knocking  at  the  window: 
"  Open,  open !  "  A  black  curtain  falls. 

"  Nobody,"  says  Mr.  Thomas,  "  who 
has  read  '  Les  Aveugles  '  and  *  L'Intruse  ' 
could  doubt  the  authorship  of  *  Les  Sept 
Princesses.'  Here  are  the  same  agitated, 
helpless  people  speaking  in  abrupt,  simple, 
and  oft-repeated  phrases.  Here  again 
something  is  going  on  which  they  do  not 
understand,  and  are  impotent  to  arrest  or 
change.  But  the  matter  of  both  earlier 
38 


Introduction 

plays  was  a  not  improbable  incident  which 
was  developed,  it  may  be  extravagantly, 
but  in  a  manner  that  touched  human  beings. 
If  '  Les  Aveugles '  was  extraordinary, 
while  *  L'Intruse  '  was  not  extraordinary  in 
any  way,  both  were  easy  to  understand. 
But  '  Les  Sept  Princesses '  is  a  picture 
drawn  for  its  own  sake.  It  has  its  logic, 
but  the  elements  in  it  seem  chosen,  like 
those  of  '  La  Princesse  Maleine,'  because 
they  are  attractive  in  themselves  —  the 
marble  hall  and  stairs,  the  terrace,  the  dark 
land  of  marshes  and  forests,  the  canal  and 
the  warship,  the  seven  princesses  in  white 
sleeping  on  the  stairs,  the  swans,  the  prince 
arriving  to  claim  one  of  them  and  finding 
her  at  last  dead,  the  old  king  and  queen 
shut  outside  the  hall  and  knocking  vainly 
at  the  windows;  only,  these  elements  are 
combined  without  any  of  the  unwieldiness 
of  '  La  Princesse  Maleine,'  without  inter- 
39 


Introduction 

faring  with  themselves  or  with  anything 
else.  It  is  simply  a  picture  in  Maet- 
erlinck's manner,  and  this  manner  has  the 
effect  of  creating  a  feeling  of  helplessness 
and  smallness  in  the  presence  of  fate  and 
the  earth." 

It  was  not  until  a  later  period  that 
Maeterlinck  came  under  the  influence  of 
the  American  Emerson.  "  A  Belgian 
Emerson,"  Mr.  James  Huneker  has  said, 
"  but  an  Emerson  who  had  in  him  much  of 
Edgar  Allan  Poe."  Surely  it  was  not 
through  Emerson  that  Maeterlinck  found 
the  author  of  "  The  Raven."  Nor  is  it 
certain  that  there  was  any  direct  inspira- 
tion at  all.  More  likely  it  is  that  the  same 
visions  burned  early  in  the  brain  of  the 
Flemish  mystic  that  had  seethed  in  the 
mind  of  the  gifted,  erratic  American  half  a 
century  before.  There  was  no  need  for 
him  to  know  "  The  House  of  Usher  "  of 
40 


Introduction 

the  Poe  tale.  Was  there  not  a  House  of 
Usher  perched  on  every  Flemish  hill,  at 
the  bottom  of  every  Flemish  valley  ?  Was 
not  the  man  a  forerunner  of  Maeterlinck 
who  wrote  this? 

"  Now  there  are  fine  tales  in  the  volumes 
of  the  Magi  —  in  the  iron-bound  melan- 
choly volumes  of  the  Magi.  Therein,  I 
say,  are  glorious  histories  of  the  heaven 
and  of  the  earth,  and  of  the  mighty  sea  — 
and  of  the  genius  that  over-ruled  the  sea, 
and  the  earth,  and  the  lofty  heaven. 
There  was  much  lore,  too,  in  the  sayings 
that  were  said  by  the  Sybils,  and  holy,  holy 
things  were  heard  of  old  by  the  dim  leaves 
which  trembled  round  Dodona,  but  as 
Allah  liveth,  that  fable  which  the  Demon 
told  me  as  he  sat  by  my  side  in  the  shadow 
of  the  tomb,  I  hold  to  be  the  most  won- 
derful of  all." 

Or  this? 

41 


Introduction 

"  And  then  did  we,  the  seven,  start  from 
our  seats  in  horror  and  stand  trembling 
and  aghast,  for  the  tones  in  the  voice  of 
the  shadow  were  not  the  tones  of  any  one 
being,  but  of  a  multitude  of  beings,  and, 
varying  in  their  cadences  from  syllable  to 
syllable,  fell  duskily  upon  our  ears  in  the 
well-remembered  and  familiar  accents  of 
many  thousand  departed  friends." 

The  landscape  of  most  of  those  early 
Maeterlinck  plays  is  the  landscape  of 
"Ulalume": 

The  skies  they  were  ashen  and  sober, 

The  leaves  they  were  crisped  and  sear, 

It  was  night  in  the  lonesome  October 

In  my  most  immemorial  year. 

It  was  hard  by  the  dim  lake  of  Auber 

In  the  misty  mid-region  of  Weir, 

It  was  down  by  the  dark  tarn  of  Auber 

In  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir. 

But  it  was  a  more  material  setting  that 
42 


Introduction 

Maeterlinck  gave  to  "  The  Miracle  of  St. 
Anthony."  Not  the  intangible  Nowhere 
or  the  impalpable  At  any  Time,  but  the 
present  day,  a  commonplace  house,  and  a 
small  provincial  town  in  the  Low  Coun- 
tries. Instead  of  stately  marble  pillars,  or 
primeval  forest,  or  limitless  sea,  a  room 
with  leather-covered  benches  against  the 
walls,  two  wooden  stoves  and  an  umbrella 
stand,  on  which  are  hats,  a  cape  and  wraps. 
Instead  of  swans  and  sleeping  beauties,  the 
old  drudge  Virginie,  with  her  skirts  turned 
up  and  her  legs  bare,  swabbing  the  floor. 
In  the  next  room  is  lying  the  body  of  the 
Maiden  Lady  Hortensia,  who  in  her  life- 
time had  been  exceedingly  generous  in  her 
donations  to  the  church,  and  especially 
devoted  to  the  memory  of  the  blessed  St. 
Anthony  of  Padua.  It  is  the  Saint  him- 
self, come  to  restore  her  to  life  as  a  reward 
for  her  piety,  who  presents  himself  at  the 
43 


Introduction 

door-sill  as  the  curtain  rises.  In  appear- 
ance he  is  not  as  the  dead  woman  might 
have  expected.  Bare-headed  and  bare- 
footed, his  beard  and  hair  are  scrubby  and 
tangled,  and  he  is  clothed  in  a  soiled,  sack- 
like,  and  much  dirtied  cowl.  The  story 
of  how  he  was  received  by  the  relatives,  the 
doctor,  the  parson,  and  the  gathered  guests 
may  be  read  by  those  who  turn  to  the  fol- 
lowing pages.  It  was  first  presented  to 
American  play-goers  by  the  Washington 
Square  Players  under  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Edward  Goodman  at  the  Bandbox  Theatre 
in  New  York,  the  evening  of  May  yth, 
1915.  It  had  the  quality  of  novelty,  for  it 
was  one  of  the  least  known  of  all  the  plays. 
There  was  a  story  current  at  the  time  that 
it  was  produced  from  the  manuscript. 
What  Maeterlinck  himself  thinks  of  it, 
what  place  in  his  mind  it  has  in  his  whole 
scheme  of  literary  production,  the  writer 
44 


Introduction 

cannot  say.  That  is  a  matter  as  elusive 
as  the  man  himself  is  elusive.  To  illus- 
trate that  elusiveness  by  a  personal  remin- 
iscence : 

It  was  six  years  ago,  in  the  days  when 
the  world  was  happy  with  the  blessedness 
of  a  peace  that  seemed  likely  to  endure,  and 
when  the  occasional  cloud  on  the  political 
horizon  was  regarded  as  nothing  more 
than  a  mirage,  that  the  writer  and  a 
friend  —  the  latter  one  of  the  firm  of 
M.  Maeterlinck's  American  publishers  — 
made  a  journey  to  the  south  of  France 
for  the  purpose  of  paying  their  respects 
to  the  Belgian  mystic  in  his  Nice  home. 
In  London  we  had  been  advised  by  Mr. 
Alexander  Teixeira  de  Mattos,  whose 
admirable  translations  have  done  so  much 
to  make  Maeterlinck's  name  a  household 
name  to  English-speaking  readers. 
"  Here  is  his  latest  letter,"  said  Mr. 
45 


Introduction 

Teixeira.  "It  is  dated  from  his  villa  in 
the  Quartier  des  Beaumettes,  which  is  the 
rising  ground  at  the  western  end  of  the 
town.  You  will  find  him  there;  that  is,  if 
you  succeed  in  finding  him  at  all.  For  he 
is  a  very  difficult  man  to  find.  That  is  one 
of  his  peculiarities." 

It  was  the  night  before  the  departure 
from  Nice.  Our  time  was  limited.  At  its 
mole  in  the  swarming  harbor  of  Mar- 
seilles, the  Sant  Anna,  which  was  to  carry 
us  on  its  roundabout,  five  thousand  mile 
journey,  with  New  York  as  the  ultimate 
destination,  was  preparing  for  its  leaving 
of  the  next  day.  We  started  on  the  quest. 
At  the  hotel  they  could  tell  us  nothing. 
The  driver  of  the  fiacre  engaged  was  no 
better  informed.  Surprised  but  un- 
daunted we  were  soon  winding  slowly 
between  high  stone  walls,  up  the  beautiful 
Beaumettes  slope.  From  villa  to  villa  we 
46 


Introduction 

travelled,  to  be  met  everywhere  by  puz- 
zled, negative  headshakes.  "  M.  Maet- 
erlinck? We  do  not  know  him.  We 
have  never  heard  of  him.  We  do  not 
think  that  he  is  of  the  Quartier.  Perhaps 
if  you  enquire  at  the  villa  beyond  you  will 
learn  something."  For  two  hours  in  the 
darkness  sweet  scented  by  the  breath  of  the 
semi-tropical  plants  and  flowers,  we  kept 
up  the  search.  But  it  was  in  vain.  Here 
indeed  was  a  prophet  unknown  in  his  own 
country.  What  was  the  reason  for  the 
mystery?  Was  there  a  vast  conspiracy  of 
silence  and  pretended  ignorance  on  the  part 
of  his  neighbors?  Were  solitude  and 
freedom  from  interruption  so  necessary  to 
his  being  that  the  great  man  had  sworn 
them  to  secrecy?  Or  had  he  draped  him- 
self in  some  mysterious  veil,  some  figur- 
ative coat  of  invisible  green,  through 
which  the  eyes  of  those  who  dwelt  in  the 
47 


Introduction 

Quartier  des  Beaumettes  had  never  been 
able  to  see?  We  never  found  out. 
There  was  about  the  enigma  something 
weird,  something  almost  uncanny.  We 
had  been  told  to  seek  him  in  a  mansion  by 
the  sea.  We  could  hear  the  waves  of  the 
Mediterranean  beating  against  the  rocks 
below.  But  was  it  another  ocean  —  an 
ocean  of  the  Never,  Never  Land  that  had 
been  meant? 

It  was  many  and  many  a  year  ago 

In  a  kingdom  by  the  sea, 

That  a  maiden  lived,  whom  you  all  may  know 

By  the  name  of  Annabel  Lee  ; 

And  this  maiden  she  lived  with  no  other  thought 

Than  to  love  and  be  loved  by  me. 

Is  there  a  real  Maeterlinck  house?  we 
asked  ourselves.  Or  is  his  habitation  of 
such  dream  stuff  as  the  House  of  Usher? 
Is  the  land  of  Maeterlinck  a  material  land, 
48 


Introduction 

or  is  it  somewhere  "  hard  by  the  dim  lake 
of  Auber,  in  the  misty  mid-region  of  Weir  : 
down  by  the  dark  tarn  of  Auber,  in  the 
Ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir?  " 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  SAINT 
ANTHONY 

The  entrance-hall  of  a  large  old-fashioned 
house.  Front-door  on  the  left.  At 
the  back,  a  few  steps  with  on  the  left 
a  glass  door  with  lace  curtains,  lead- 
ing to  the  dining-room,  and  on  the 
right  a  pair  of  folding  glass  doors, 
also  with  lace  curtains,  leading  to  the 
drawing-room.  Against  the  wall,  a 
leather-covered  bench,  one  or  two 
wooden  stools  and  an  umbrella-stand 
with  hats  and  coats  on  it. 

The  curtain  rises  on  VIRGINIE,  the  old 
servant.  Her  skirts  are  pinned  up, 
showing  her  bare  legs  and  sabots;  she 
is  surrounded  with  brass  pails,  swab- 
bing-cloths,  brooms  and  scrubbing- 
brushes  and  is  busily  washing  the 
53 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

flagstones  composing  the  floor.  She 
stops  working  from  time  to  time, 
blows  her  nose  noisily  and  wipes  away 
a  big  tear. 

There  is  a  ring  at  the  front-door.  VIR- 
GINIE  half  opens  it,  revealing  on  the 
threshold  a  long  lean  old  man,  bare- 
foot, bareheaded,  with  tangled  hair 
and  beard,  and  clad  in  a  sort  of  frieze 
habit  of  faded  brown,  muddy,  out  of 
shape  and  patched. 

VlRGINIE 

(Holding  the  door  ajar.)  This  is  the 
thirty-sixth  time  that  I've  been  to  the 
door.  .  .  .  Another  beggar!  Well, 
what  is  it? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

Let  me  in. 

54 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

VIRGINIE 

No,  you're  all  over  mud.     Stay  there. 
What  do  you  want? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
I  want  to  come  in. 

VIRGINIE 
What  for? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

To  bring  Mademoiselle  Hortense  back 
to  life. 

VIRGINIE 

Bring  Mademoiselle  Hortense  back  to 
life  ?     Get  out !     Who  are  you  ? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Saint  Anthony. 

VIRGINIE 

Of  Padua? 

55 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 
SAINT  ANTHONY 

The  same.  (His  halo  lights  up  and 
shines.) 

VlRGINIE 

Lord  bless  me,  it's  true!  (She  opens 
the  door  wide,  falls  on  her  knees  and  mut- 
ters a  prayer,  with  her  hands  folded  over 
the  handle  of  her  broom,  after  which  she 
kisses  the  hem  of  the  SAINT'S  habit  and 
continues,  in  a  mechanical  and  bewildered 
sing-song.}  Saint  Anthony,  pray  for  us  I 
Blessed  Saint  Anthony,  look  down  upon 
us!  Saint  Anthony,  pray  for  us! 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Shut  the  door. 

VlRGINIE 

(Gets  up  crossly.)  Wipe  your  feet  on 
the  mat.  (SAINT  ANTHONY  wipes  them 

er/» 


56 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

awkwardly.}  No,  that  won't  do:  rub 
them  hard,  rub  them  hard.  (She  closes 
the  front  door.) 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Pointing  to  the  folding-doors.)     She 
is  laid  out  in  there. 

VlRGINIE 

(In  an  astonished  voice  of  delight.) 
Yes,  but  how  did  you  know  ?  It's  wonder- 
ful! She's  there,  in  the  drawing-room 
.  .  .  The  poor  dear  lady !  She  was  only 
seventy-seven.  That's  no  age  at  all,  is  it? 
.  .  .  She  was  a  very  pious  and  deserving 
lady,  you  know.  She  suffered  a  great 
deal.  .  . .  And  she  was  very  rich.  They 
say  she's  left  two  million  francs.  That's 
a  lot  of  money. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes. 

57 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 
VIRGINIE 

It  all  goes  to  her  two  nephews,  Mon- 
sieur Gustave  and  Monsieur  Achille.  And 
she's  left  legacies  to  the  Rector,  to  the 
church,  to  the  beadle,  to  the  sacristan,  to 
the  poor,  to  the  Curate,  to  fourteen  Jes- 
uits and  to  all  the  servants,  according  to 
the  length  of  time  that  they  were  with  her. 
I  get  most.  I've  been  in  her  service  for 
thirty-three  years,  so  I  shall  have  three 
thousand  three  hundred  francs.  That's  a 
good  sum. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
It  is. 

VIRGINIE 

She  owed  me  nothing;  she  always  paid 
me   my  wages    regularly.     You   can   say 
what  you  like,  you  won't  find  many  mis- 
tresses who  would  do  as  much,  after  they 
58 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

were  dead  and  gone.  She  was  one  of  the 
best  of  women.  And  we're  burying  her 
to-day.  .  .  .  Everybody  has  sent  flowers. 
You  ought  to  see  the  drawing-room.  It's 
a  glorious  sight.  There  are  flowers  on  the 
bed,  on  the  table,  on  the  chairs,  on  the 
piano.  And  nothing  but  white  flowers: 
it's  perfectly  beautiful.  We  simply  don't 
know  where  to  put  the  wreaths.  (A  ring 
at  the  door.  She  opens  it  and  returns 
with  two  wreaths.}  Here  are  two  more. 
(Examines  the  wreaths  and  weighs  them 
in  her  hands.}  Aren't  these  lovely? 
Just  hold  them  a  minute  till  I  finish  my 
work.  (She  gives  the  wreaths  to  SAINT 
ANTHONY,  who  takes  one  in  each  hand 
obligingly.}  They're  taking  her  to  the 
cemetery  this  afternoon.  Everything  has 
to  be  nice  and  clean;  and  I've  only  time 
to  . 


59 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Take  me  to  the  corpse. 

VIRGINIE 
Take  you  to  the  corpse?     Now? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes. 

VIRGINIE 

No,  it  can't  be  done.     You  must  wait  a 
bit;  they  are  still  at  lunch. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

God  bids  me  hurry;  there  is  no  time 
to  lose. 

VIRGINIE 
What  do  you  want  with  her? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I've  told  you:  I  want  to  bring  her  back 
to  life. 

60 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

VIRGINIE 

You  want  to  bring  her  back  to  life  ?  Se- 
riously, do  you  want  to  raise  her  from  the 
dead? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes. 

VIRGINIE 
But  she's  been  dead  three  days. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

That's  why  I  wish  to  raise  her  from  the 
dead. 

VIRGINIE 
For  her  to  live  again  as  before? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes. 

VIRGINIE 
But  then  there  won't  be  any  heirs? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Of  course  not. 

61 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

VIRGINIE 
But  what  will  Monsieur  Gustave  say? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
I  don't  know. 

VIRGINIE 

And  will  she  take  back  the  three  thou- 
sand three  hundred  francs  which  she  gave 
me  because  she  was  dead? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes,  of  course. 

VIRGINIE 
That's  a  nuisance. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Have  you  no  other  money,  no  savings? 

VIRGINIE 

Not  a  farthing.     I  have  an  invalid  sister 
who  takes  every  penny  I  earn. 
62 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 
SAINT  ANTHONY 

Well,  if  you  are  afraid  of  losing  your 
three  thousand  francs  ...  . 

VIRGINIE 

Three       thousand       three       hundred 
francs  .  .  . 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

If  you're  afraid  of  losing  the  money, 
then  I  won't  raise  her  from  the  dead. 

VIRGINIE 

Couldn't  I   keep   the   money   and  you 
bring  her  back  to  life  just  the  same? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

No,  you  must  take  it  or  leave  it.     I 
came  down  in  answer  to  your  prayers: 
it's  for  you  to  choose. 
63 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 
VIRGINIE 

(After  a  moment's  reflection.}  Well, 
then,  bring  her  back  to  life  all  the  same. 
(The  SAINT'S  halo  lights  up  and  shines.) 
What's  the  matter  with  you  now? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
You  have  pleased  me. 

VIRGINIE 

And  then  does  that  lantern  thing  light 
up? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes,  of  itself. 

VIRGINIE 

That's  funny.  .  .  .  But  don't  stand  so 
near  the  lace  curtains,  or  you'll  set  them 
on  fire. 

64 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

There's  no  danger:  it's  celestial  flame. 
.  .  .  Take  me  to  the  body. 

VIRGINIE 

I've  told  you:  you  must  wait.     I  can't 
disturb  them  now.     They're  still  at  lunch. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Who? 

VIRGINIE 

Why,  my  masters,  of  course !  The 
whole  family!  First  her  two  nephews, 
Monsieur  Gustave  and  Monsieur  Achille, 
with  their  wives  and  children,  Monsieur 
Georges,  Monsieur  Alberic,  Monsieur 
Alphonse  and  Monsieur  Desire.  .  .  . 
And  cousins,  male  and  female,  and  the 
Rector  and  the  Doctor  and  I  don't  know 
who  besides:  friends  and  relatives  from  a 
65 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

distance,  whom  Yd  never  seen.     They're 
very  rich  people. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Really? 

VlRGINIE 

Did  you  notice  the  street? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
What  street? 

VlRGINIE 

Why,    ours,    of    course!     The    one    in 
which  our  house  stands. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes. 

VlRGINIE 

It's  a  handsome  street.     Well,  all  the 
houses  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  street, 
66 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

except  the  little  one  at  the  end,  the  baker's 
shop,  belong  to  Mademoiselle  Hortense. 
Those  on  the  right-hand  side  are  Mon- 
sieur Gustave's.  There  are  twenty 
houses.  That  means  money. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
No  doubt. 

VIRGINIE 

(Pointing   to    the    halo.}      Look,   your 
lantern  thing  is  going  out. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Feeling       his        halo.}      Yes,        I'm 
afraid  .  .  . 

VIRGINIE 
Doesn't  it  keep  burning  very  long? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

It  all  depends  upon  the  thoughts  that 
feed  it. 

67 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

VIRGINIE 

Yes,  they  own  woods  .  .  .  and  farms 
.  .  .  and  houses  galore !  Monsieur  Gus- 
tave  has  a  starch-factory:  Gustave's 
Starch,  you've  heard  of  it,  I  expect !  Oh, 
they're  an  amazingly  well-off  family. 
There  are  four  of  them  who  live  on  their 
incomes  and  do  no  business  at  all.  That's 
splendid,  that  is!  .  .  .  And  such  friends 
and  acquaintances  and  tenants!  .  .  . 
Well,  they've  all  come  to  the  funeral,  some 
of  them  from  ever  so  far.  There's  one, 
I'm  told,  who  travelled  two  days  and  two 
nights  to  get  here  in  time.  I'll  show  him 
to  you :  he  has  a  lovely  beard.  .  .  . 
They're  lunching  here.  They  haven't 
finished  yet.  We  can't  disturb  them. 
It's  a  great  lunch:  there  are  twenty-four 
of  them  sitting  down  to  it.  And  I've  seen 
the  bill  of  fare :  there's  oysters,  two  soups, 
three  entrees,  crayfish  in  jelly,  and  trout 
68 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

a  la  Schubert.     Do  you  know  what  that 
is? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
No. 

VlRGINIE 

No  more  do  I.  They  say  it's  very 
good;  but  it's  not  for  you  and  me. 
There's  no  champagne,  because  of  the 
mourning;  but  there's  every  other  kind 
of  wine.  Mademoiselle  Hortense  had 
the  best  cellar  in  the  town.  I'll  try  and 
get  you  a  good  big  glass,  if  they  leave  any; 
then  you'll  see  the  sort  of  thing.  .  .  . 
Wait,  I'll  go  and  look  what  they're  doing. 
(She  goes  up  the  steps,  draws  back  the 
curtains  and  peeps  through  the  glass  door 
on  the  left.)  I  think  they're  beginning 
the  trout,  the  trout  a  la  Schubert.  Oh, 
there's  Joseph  moving  the  pine-apple. 
They've  a  good  two  hours  before  them. 
69 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

You'd  better  take  a  seat.  (SAINT 
ANTHONY  goes  to  the  leather-covered 
bench  and  is  about  to  sit  down.}  No,  no, 
not  there,  you're  much  too  dirty!  Sit  on 
the  stool.  I  must  get  on  with  my  work. 
(SAINT  ANTHONY  sits  down  on  a  stool; 
VIRGINIE  resumes  her  work  and  takes  up 
a  pail  of  water.}  Look  out!  Lift  up 
your  feet;  I'm  going  to  splash  the  water. 
.  .  .  No,  don't  stay  there;  you're  in  my 
way;  and  it's  not  cleaned  yet.  ...  Go 
over  there  in  the  corner;  push  the  stool 
against  the  wall.  (SAINT  ANTHONY 
obediently  does  as  she  tells  him.}  There, 
now  you  won't  get  your  feet  wet.  Aren't 
you  hungry? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

No,   thank  you,   but   I'm   rather   in   a 
hurry;  so  go  and  tell  your  masters. 
70 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

VIRGINIE 

You're  in  a  hurry?  What  have  you  got 
to  do? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Two  or  three  miracles. 

VIRGINIE 

I  can't  tell  them  anything  while  they're 
at  lunch.  We  must  wait  till  they've  had 
their  coffee.  Monsieur  Gustave  might  be 
very  angry.  ...  I  don't  know  what  sort 
of  reception  he'll  give  you;  he  doesn't  like 
having  poor  people  in  the  house.  You 
don't  look  over-prosperous. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
No,  saints  are  never  prosperous. 

VIRGINIE 
They  have  money  given  them,  though. 

71 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

Yes,  but  not  everything  that's  given  to 
the  saints  reaches  heaven. 

VlRGINIE 

You  don't  mean  it?  Then  do  the 
priests  take  what  we  give?  I've  heard 
it  said;  but  I  wouldn't  believe  .  .  .  There 
now,  I've  got  no  water  left!  ...  I  sayl 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes? 

VlRGINIE 

Do  you  see  a  brass  tap  on  your  right? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes. 

VlRGINIE 

There's  an  empty  pail  beside  it. 
Would  you  mind  filling  it  for  me? 

72 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
With  pleasure. 

VIRGINIE 

You  see,  I'll  never  get  all  this  cleaning 
done  if  some  one  doesn't  help  me.  And 
there's  nobody  to  help  me:  they're  all 
losing  their  heads.  .  .  .  It's  a  terrible 
job,  a  death  in  the  house  !  You  know  that 
as  well  as  I  do.  A  good  thing  it  doesn't 
happen  every  day.  .  .  .  Monsieur  Gus- 
tave  will  make  a  fuss  if  everything  isn't 
clean  and  shining  when  his  guests  come 
through,  here.  .  .  .  He's  not  easy  to 
please.  .  .  .  And  I  still  have  all  the  brass 
to  do.  ...  There,  turn  the  tap;  that's 
right.  .  .  .  Bring  me  the  pail.  .  .  . 
Aren't  your  feet  cold?  Tuck  up  your 
gown  or  it'll  get  wet.  .  .  .  Mind  the 
wreaths;  put  them  on  the  stool.  .  .  . 
That's  right,  that's  capital.  (SAINT 
73 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

ANTHONY  brings  her  the  pail.}  Thanks, 
you're  very  kind.  ...  I  want  one  more. 
(A  sound  of  voices  and  of  chairs  being 
pushed  back.)  Listen!  What's  that? 
I'll  go  and  see.  (She  goes  to  the  glass 
door.)  Hallo,  the  master  has  got  up! 
What  can  it  be?  Have  they  quarrelled? 
.  .  .  No,  the  others  are  eating.  .  .  . 
Joseph  is  filling  up  the  Rector's  glass. 
.  .  .  They  are  finishing  the  trout.  .  .  . 
The  master  is  coming  to  the  door.  .  .  . 
Why,  I  might  speak  to  him  as  he  comes 
out  and  tell  him  that  you  .  .  . 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Yes,  do,  please;  tell  him  at  once. 

VIRGINIE 

Very  well.  Put  down  the  pail;  I  don't 
want  it.  Here,  take  this  broom.  Not 
like  that!  You'd  better  sit  down  again. 

74 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

(SAINT  ANTHONY  obeys  and  sits  on  the 
two  wreaths  lying  on  the  stool.}  Hi, 
what  are  you  doing?  You're  sitting  on 
the  wreaths ! 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  beg  your  pardon.  I'm  a  little  short- 
sighted. 

VlRGINIE 

Clumsy!  They're  a  pretty  sight  nowl 
And  what  Monsieur  Gustave  will  say  when 
he  sees  those  two  wreaths!  .  .  .  Thank 
goodness,  they're  not  so  bad  after  all! 
We  can  put  them  right.  Sit  down  over 
there ;  take  them  on  your  knees ;  and  keep 
quite  quiet.  (She  goes  down  on  her  knees 
before  the  SAINT.)  I  have  a  favour  to 
ask  you. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

Speak,  don't  be  afraid. 
75 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

VIRGINIE 

Give  me  your  blessing,  while  we  are  by 
ourselves.  When  the  company  comes  out, 
I  shall  be  sent  away;  and  I  shaVt  see  you 
any  more.  Give  me  your  blessing  for  my- 
self alone.  I  am  old  and  need  it  badly. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Rises  and  blesses  her.  His  halo  lights 
up.}  I  bless  you,  my  daughter,  for  you 
are  good,  simple  of  heart  and  mind,  fault- 
less, fearless,  guileless  in  the  presence  of 
the  great  mysteries  and  faithful  in  the 
performance  of  your  little  duties.  Go  in 
peace,  my  child.  Go  and  tell  your 
masters.  .  .  . 

(Exit  VIRGINIE.  SAINT  ANTHONY 
sits  down  again  on  the  stool.  Pre- 
sently  the  glass  door  opens  and 
GUSTAVE  enters,  followed  by 
VIRGINIE.) 

76 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

(In  a  harsh  and  angry  -voice.}  What's 
all  this?  Who  are  you?  What  do  you 
want? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
(Rising  humbly.}     I  am  Saint  Anthony. 

GUSTAVE 
Are  you  mad? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Of  Padua. 

GUSTAVE 

What  sort  of  joke  is  this?  I  am  in  no 
mood  for  laughing.  Have  you  been 
drinking?  Come,  what  are  you  here  for? 
What  do  you  want?  .  .  . 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
I  want  to  raise  your  aunt  from  the  dead. 

77 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

What?  Raise  my  aunt  from  the  dead? 
(To  VIRGINIE.)  He's  drunk.  Why  did 
you  let  him  in?  (To  SAINT  ANTHONY.) 
Look  here,  my  man,  be  sensible:  we  have 
no  time  for  jesting.  My  aunt  is  to  be 
buried  to-day;  you  can  call  again  to- 
morrow. Here.  Here's  a  trifle  for  you. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(With    gentle     persistence.}      I     must 
raise  her  from  the  dead  to-day. 

GUSTAVE 

All  right,  presently,  after  the  ceremony! 
Come,  here's  the  door. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  shall  not  leave  until  I  have  brought 
her  back  to  life. 

78 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

(Blazing  out.}  Look  here,  I've  had 
enough  of  this!  You're  getting  tiresome! 
My  guests  are  waiting  for  me.  (He 
opens  the  front-door.}  Here's  the  door. 
Look  sharp,  please! 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  shall  not  leave  until  I  have  brought 
her  back  to  life. 

GUSTAVE 

Oh,  won't  you?  We'll  see  about  that. 
(Opens  the  glass  door  and  calls  out.} 
Joseph! 

JOSEPH 

(Appears  in  the  doorway,  with  a  large 
steaming  dish  in  his  hands.)  Yes,  sir? 

GUSTAVE 

(Glancing  at  the  dish.}     What's  that? 
79 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

JOSEPH 
The  partridges,  sir. 

GUSTAVE 

Give  the  dish  to  Virginie  and  turn  this 
drunken  fellow  out  of  doors.  And  be 
quick  about  it. 

JOSEPH 

(Handing  VIRGINIE  the  dish.)  Very 
good,  sir.  (Going  up  to  the  SAINT.) 
Come  on,  old  fellow,  didn't  you  hear? 
It's  all  very  well  getting  tight ;  you've  got 
to  pull  yourself  together  now.  Come  on  1 
Get  out  of  this!  You'd  better  come 
quietly,  or  you'll  regret  it :  I  can  be  pretty 
rough  when  I  like.  You  won't?  You 
just  wait!  Open  the  door,  Virginie.  .  .  . 

GUSTAVE 

Wait,  I'll  open  it.      (Opens  the  street- 
door.} 

80 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

JOSEPH 

That's  it;  we'll  soon  get  rid  of  him  now. 
( Turning  up  his  sleeves  and  spitting  in  his 
hands.)  I'm  going  to  show  you  what's 
what.  (He  grasps  SAINT  ANTHONY 
-firmly,  with  the  intention  of  flinging  him 
into  the  street.  The  SAINT  stands  rooted 
to  the  spot,  JOSEPH  looks  nonplussed.) 
Sir! 

GUSTAVE 

What's  the  matter? 

JOSEPH 

I  don't  know,  sir.  He  seems  fixed.  I 
can't  get  him  to  budge. 

GUSTAVE 

I'll  help  you.      (Both  of  them  try  to 

push  SAINT  ANTHONY  out,  but  he  remains 

immovable.     GUSTAVE,  in  an  undertone.) 

Well,   upon   my   soul!     He's   dangerous. 

81 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

Be  careful.  He  has  the  strength  of  a 
Hercules.  Let's  try  being  gentle  with 
him.  (To  SAINT  ANTHONY.)  Listen  to 
me,  my  friend.  You  understand,  don't 
you,  that,  on  a  day  like  this,  when  we're 
burying  my  aunt,  my  poor  dear  aunt  .  .  . 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  have  come  to  raise  her  from  the 
dead  .  .  . 

GUSTAVE 

But  you  understand,  surely,  that  this  is 
not  the  moment.  .  .  .  The  partridges  are 
getting  cold,  the  guests  are  waiting.  Be- 
sides we  are  not  in  the  mood  for  laughing. 

ACHILLE 

(Appears  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  napkin 
in  hand.}  What's  the  matter,  Gustave? 
What's  up?  We're  waiting  for  the 
partridges. 

83 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 
Our  friend  here  refuses  to  go  away. 

ACHILLE 

Is  he  boozed? 

GUSTAVE 
Well,  of  course. 

ACHILLE 

Kick  him  out  and  have  done  with  it.  I 
don't  see  why  our  good  luncheon  should 
be  spoilt  for  the  sake  of  a  dirty  drunkard. 

GUSTAVE 
He  won't  go. 

ACHILLE 

What's  that?  Won't  go?  We'll  soon 
see  about  that!  .  .  . 

GUSTAV, 

All  right,  you  try. 
83 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

ACHILLE 

I'm  not  going  to  tackle  a  dirty  tramp 
like  him.  But  there's  Joseph,  there's  the 
coachman. 

GUSTAVE 

We  have  tried;  it's  no  use;  and,  short 
of  employing  absolute  violence  .  .  . 

(More  GUESTS  appear  at  the  door, 
most  of  them  with  their  mouths 
full,  some  with  their  napkins  under 
their  arms,  others  with  them  tucked 
under  their  chins.} 

A  GUEST 
What's  it  all  about? 

ANOTHER 

What  are  you  doing,  Gustave? 
ANOTHER 

What  does  the  fellow  want? 
84 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

ANOTHER 
Where  has  he  sprung  from? 

GUSTAVE 

He  won't  go  away.  It's  another  of 
Virginie's  blunders.  As  soon  as  she 
catches  sight  of  a  beggar,  she  loses  her 
head.  It's  really  too  silly.  She  let  this 
madman  in;  and  he  insists  on  seeing  Aunt 
Hortense  and  raising  her  from  the  dead. 

A  GUEST 

You  should  send  for  the  police.  Why 
don't  you? 

GUSTAVE 

No,  no;  no  scandal!  I  don't  want  the 
police  in  the  house  on  a  day  like  this. 

ACHILLE 
(Changing  his  tone.}      Gustave. 

GUSTAVE 
Well? 

85 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

ACHILLE 

Have  you  noticed  that  two  or  three  of 
the  flags  are  cracked,  over  there  on  the 
left,  at  the  end  of  the  hall? 

GUSTAVE 

Yes,  I  know.  It  doesn't  matter;  I'm 
going  to  have  a  mosaic  floor  to  take  the 
place  of  the  flags. 

ACHILLE 
That'll  look  more  cheerful  .  .  . 

GUSTAVE 

And,  better  still,  more  modern.  In- 
stead of  that  door,  with  the  lace  curtains, 
I  thought  of  having  a  painted  window 
illustrating  Hunting,  Industry  and 
Progress,  with  a  garland  of  fruit 
and  game. 

ACHILLE 

Yes,  that  will  be  very  nice. 
86 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

As  for  my  office,  I  intend  to  have  it  in 
there  (pointing  to  the  folding-doors),  with 
the  clerks'  office  opposite. 

ACHILLE 
When  shall  you  move  in  ? 

GUSTAVE 

A  few  days  after  the  funeral.  It  would 
not  do  to  come  in  the  very  next  day. 

ACHILLE 

No.  But  meanwhile  we  must  get  rid 
of  this  chap. 

GUSTAVE 
He's  made  himself  quite  at  home. 

ACHILLE 

(To  SAINT  ANTHONY.)  Won't  you 
have  a  chair? 

87 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Naively.)  No,  thank  you.  I'm  not 
tired. 

ACHILLE 

Leave  him  to  me.  I'll  soon  dispose  of 
him.  (Approaching  the  SAINT,  in  a 
friendly  tone.)  Come,  my  friend,  tell  us 
who  you  are. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
I  am  Saint  Anthony. 

ACHILLE 

Yes,  yes,  you're  right.  (To  the 
others.)  He  sticks  to  it,  but  he's  quite 
harmless.  (Noticing  the  RECTOR  among 
the  GUESTS  who  have  crowded  around 
SAINT  ANTHONY  and  giving  him  an  artful 
and  chaffing  look.)  And  here's  the 
Rector;  he  knows  you,  and  wants  to  pay 
you  his  respects.  Saints  are  your  business, 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

Father:  I  know  more  about  ploughs  and 
traction-engines.  Here's  an  emissary 
from  heaven,  Father,  great  Saint  Anthony 
in  person,  who  would  like  a  word  with 
you.  (Under  his  breath  to  the  RECTOR.) 
We  want  to  get  him  quietly  to  the  door, 
without  letting  him  know.  Once  he  is  out- 
side, good-bye. 

THE  RECTOR 

(In  an  unctuously  paternal  tone.) 
Great  Saint  Anthony,  your  humble  servant 
bids  you  welcome  to  this  world,  which  you 
have  deigned  to  honour  with  your  celestial 
presence.  What  does  your  Holiness 
wish  ? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

To  raise  Mademoiselle  Hortense  from 
the  dead. 

THE  RECTOR 

It's  true  that  she's  dead,   poor  ladyl 
89 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

Well,  the  miracle  should  present  no 
difficulty  to/y^the  greatest  of  our  saints. 
The  dear  departed  had  a  particular  de- 
votion to  you.  I  will  take  you  to  her,  if 
your  Holiness  will  be  good  enough  to 
come  with  me.  (He  goes  to  the  street- 
door  and  beckons  to  SAINT  ANTHONY.) 
This  way,  please. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Pointing  to  the  folding-doors.}      No, 
that  way,  in  there.  .  .  . 

THE  RECTOR 

(Still  more  unctuously.}  Your  Holi- 
ness will  pardon  me  if  I  venture  to  contra- 
dict you,  but  the  corpse,  because  of  the 
influx  of  visitors,  has  been  removed  to  the 
house  opposite,  which,  I  may  mention,  also 
belonged  to  the  dear  departed. 
90 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Pointing  to  the  folding-doors.}  She 
is  in  there. 

THE  RECTOR 

(More  and  more  unctuously.)  Let  me 
beg  your  Holiness,  in  order  to  convince 
yourself  to  the  contrary,  to  accompany  me 
for  a  moment  into  the  street,  where  you 
will  see  the  candles  and  the  black  hang- 
ings .  .  . 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Imperturbably,  still  pointing  to  the 
folding-doors.)  That  is  where  I  shall 
go- 

A  GUEST 
Did  you  ever  hear  any  one  like  him? 

GUSTAVE 

He's  going  a  trifle  too  far. 
91 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

A  GUEST 

Let  us  open  the  door  and  all  of  us  push 
him  out  together. 

GUSTAVE 

No,  no;  no  scene!  He  might  lose  his 
temper.  He's  very  dangerous;  he's 
enormously  strong.  Keep  your  hands 
off  him.  Joseph  and  I,  who  are  no  weak- 
lings, either  of  us,  couldn't  make  him  move 
an  inch.  It's  funny,  but  he  seems  rooted 
to  the  soil. 

ACHILLE 

But  who  told  him  that  the  corpse  was  in 
there? 

GUSTAVE 

Virginie,  of  course;  she's  been  babbling 
for  all  she's  worth. 

VIRGINIE 

Me,  sir?     Excuse  me,  sir,  not  me;  I  was 
92 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

attending  to  my  work.  I  answered  yes 
and  no,  nothing  else.  .  .  .  Didn't  I,  Saint 
Anthony?  (The  SAINT  makes  no  reply.) 
Well,  can't  you  answer  when  you're  asked 
a  civil  question? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
She  did  not  tell  me. 

VIRGINIE 

There,  you  see !  He's  a  saint;  he  knew 
it  all  beforehand.  I  tell  you,  there's  no- 
thing he  doesn't  know. 

ACHILLE 

(Going  to  the  SAINT  and  tapping  him 
amicably  on  the  shoulder.}  Now  then, 
my  fine  fellow,  come  on ;  put  your  best  foot 
forward,  what  I 

THE  GUESTS 
Will  he  go,  or  won't  he? 
93 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

ACHILLE 
I  have  an  idea. 


Gu  STAVE 
What's  that? 

ACHILLE 
Where's  the  doctor? 

A  GUEST 

He's  still  at  table;  he's  finishing  up  the 
trout.  .  .  . 

GUSTAVE 

(To  JOSEPH.)  Go  and  fetch  him. 
'(Exit  JOSEPH.)  You're  right,  he's  a 
madman;  it's  the  doctor's  business. 
(Enter  JOSEPH  and  the  DOCTOR.) 

THE  DOCTOR 

(Appears  with  his  mouth  full  and  his 
napkin   tucked  under  his  chin.}      What's 
94 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

up?  Is  he  mad?  Is  he  ill?  Is  he 
drunk?  (Looking  the  SAINT  over.) 
Why,  it's  a  beggar!  I'm  of  no  use  in 
his  case.  Well,  my  friend,  are  things 
going  badly?  Is  there  something  we 
want? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  want  to  raise  Mademoiselle  Hortense 
from  the  dead. 

THE  DOCTOR 

Ah,  I  see  you're  not  a  medical  man! 
May  I  have  your  hand?  (Feels  the 
SAINT'S  pulse.)  Any  pain? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

No. 

THE  DOCTOR 

(Feeling  his  head  and  forehead.} 
And  here?  Does  it  hurt  when  I  press  my 
finger? 

95 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
No. 

THE  DOCTOR 

Excellent,  excellent!  Do  you  ever  feel 
giddy  ? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Never. 

THE  DOCTOR 

And  in  the  past  ...  no  accident,  at 
any  time?  Let's  have  a  look  at  your 
chest.  Say  "Ah!"  That's  right.  Once 
more;  deep  breath.  Deeper,  deeper. 
That's  right.  .  .  .  And  what  is  it  you 

want,  my  man? 

/ 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
To  go  into  that  room. 

THE  DOCTOR 
What  for? 

96 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

To  raise  Mademoiselle  Hortense  from 
the  dead. 

THE  DOCTOR 
She's  not  there. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
She  is  there.     I  see  her. 

GUSTAVE 
He  sticks  to  it. 

ACHILLE 

Couldn't  you  give  him  a  hypodermic  in- 
jection? 

THE  DOCTOR 
What  for? 

ACHILLE 

To  send  him  to  sleep.     Then  we  would 
put  him  in  the  street. 
97 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

THE  DOCTOR 

No,  no;  no  nonsense.  Besides,  it's 
dangerous. 

ACHILLE 

That's  his  look  out,  not  ours.  We're 
not  paid  to  take  care  of  madmen,  tramps 
or  drunkards. 

THE  DOCTOR 
Shall  I  give  you  my  opinion? 

GUSTAVE 
I  wish  you  would. 

THE  DOCTOR 

We  have  to  do  with  a  madman,  a  rather 
feeble-minded  and  quite  harmless  mono- 
maniac, who  may  become  dangerous,  how- 
ever, if  we  thwart  him.  I  know  the  type. 
.  .  .  We  are  among  ourselves;  moreover, 
strange  though  the  experiment  which  he 
proposes  may  seem,  it  involves  no  lack  of 
98 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

respect  for  the  dear  departed.  .  .  .  That 
being  so,  I  don't  see  why,  in  order  to 
avoid  any  scandal  and  since  he's  asking 
such  a  simple  thing,  we  shouldn't  allow  him 
to  go  into  the  room  for  a  moment. 

GUSTAVE 

Never!  What's  the  world  coming  to, 
if  the  first  person  that  comes  along  can 
force  his  way  like  this  into  a  respectable 
household,  under  the  ridiculous  pretext  of 
bringing  back  to  life  a  dead  woman  who 
has  never  done  him  any  harm? 

THE  DOCTOR 

As  you  please;  it's  for  you  to  decide. 
On  the  one  hand,  you  have  an  inevitable 
scandal,  for  nothing  will  make  him  give 
up  his  idea;  on  the  other,  a  small  con- 
cession which  costs  you  nothing. 

ACIIILLE 

The  doctor's  right.  .  .  . 
99 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

THE  DOCTOR 

There's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of.  I'll 
take  the  whole  responsibility.  Besides,  we 
shall  all  be  there  and  we  shall  go  in  with 
him. 

GUSTAVE 

Very  well,  then,  let's  have  done  with  it. 
.  .  .  But,  whatever  happens,  don't  let  this 
ludicrous  incident  get  about,  will  you? 

ACHILLE 

Aunt  Hortense's  jewels  are  put  out  on 
the  mantelpiece.  .  .  . 

GUSTAVE 

I  know.  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  them,  for 
I  confess  that  I  don't  trust  him.  (To 
SAINT  ANTHONY.)  It's  this  way,  come 
in.  But  be  quick  about  it;  we  haven't 
lunched  yet. 

(GusTAVE  opens  the  folding-doors, 
100 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

revealing  the  drawing-room,  in 
which  is  a  large  four-poster,  with 
MADEMOISELLE  HORTENSE'S  body 
laid  out  upon  it.  Two  lighted 
candles,  a  crucifix,  a  branch  of 
palm,  wreaths.  At  the  back,  a 
glass  door  leading  to  the  garden. 
ALL  go  in,  SAINT  ANTHONY  and 
GUSTAVE  last.) 

GUSTAVE 

Here  is  the  body  of  the  dear  departed. 
As  you  see,  she's  quite  dead.  Are  you 
satisfied?  .  .  .  And  now  leave  us.  Let 
us  cut  short  the  experiment.  (To 
JOSEPH.)  Show  the  gentleman  out  by  the 
garden-door. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

Allow  me.      (He  walks  into  the  middle 
of  the  room  and  stands  at  the  foot  of  the 
101 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

bed.      Turning  to  the  corpse  and  speaking 
in  a  loud,  grave  voice.)     Arise  1 

GUSTAVE 

There,  that'll  do!  We  can't  stand  by 
and  allow  a  stranger  to  outrage  our  most 
sacred  feelings;  and  I  ask  you  once  more, 
for  the  last  time  .  .  . 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

Allow  me,  please!  (He  goes  nearer 
the  bed  and  raises  his  voice  more  authori- 
tatively.) Arise! 

GUSTAVE 

(Losing  his  patience.)  That's  enough! 
We'll  end  by  quarrelling.  .  .  .  Come,  this 
way:  the  door's  over  here. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

Allow  me!  ...  She  is  very  far  away. 
(In  a  deeper  and  more  commanding  tone.) 
Mademoiselle  Hortense,  return  and  arise 
from  the  dead. 

102 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

(To  the  general  amazement,  the  dead 
woman  first  makes  a  slight  move- 
ment and  then  opens  her  eyes,  un- 
folds her  hands,  raises  herself 
slowly  to  a  sitting  posture,  puts  her 
night-cap  straight  and  looks  round 
the  room  with  a  crabbed  and  dis- 
contented air.  Next  she  begins 
quietly  to  scratch  at  a  bit  of  candle- 
grease  which  she  has  discovered  on 
the  sleeve  of  her  night-gown. 
There  is  a  moment  of  overpower- 
ing silence;  then  VIRGINIE  starts 
from  the  bewildered  group,  runs  up 
to  the  bed  and  flings  herself  into 
the  arms  of  the  woman  restored  to 
life.} 

VIRGINIE 

Mademoiselle  Hortense  !     She's  alive! 
Look,  she's  scratching  at  a  bit  of  candle- 
103 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

grease;  she's  feeling  for  her  glasses.  .  .  . 
Here  they  are  1  Here  they  are !  .  .  . 
Saint  Anthony!  Saint  Anthony!  .  .  . 
A  miracle!  A  miracle!  ...  On  your 
knees !  On  your  knees ! 

GUSTAVE 

Come,  come,  be  still!  .  .  .  Don't  talk 
nonsense !  .  .  .  This  is  no  time  for  .  .  . 

ACHILLE 
There's  no  denying  it,  she's  alive. 

A  GUEST 

But   it's   not   possible!     What  has   he 
done  to  her? 

GUSTAVE 

You  can't  take  it  seriously.     She'll  have 
a  relapse. 

ACHILLE 

No,  no,   I   assure  you.     Just  see  how 
she's  staring  at  us. 

104 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

I  don't  believe  it  yet.  What  are  we 
coming  to?  Where  are  the  laws  of 
nature?  Doctor,  what  do  you  say? 

THE  DOCTOR 

(Embarrassed.}  What  do  I  say? 
What  would  you  have  me  say?  It  doesn't 
concern  me,  it's  not  my  business.  It's 
absurd  and,  at  the  same  time,  quite  simple. 
If  she's  alive,  then  she  was  never  dead. 
There's  no  reason  to  be  amazed  and  pro- 
claim a  miracle. 

GUSTAVE 
But  you  yourself  said  .  .  . 

THE  DOCTOR 

I   said,   I   said  ...  To  begin  with,   I 

said  nothing  positive;  and  I  would  have 

you  observe  that  I  have  not  signed  the 

death-certificate.     I  even  had  very  serious 

105 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

doubts,  but  I  would  not  tell  you  of  them, 
lest  I  should  raise  false  hopes.  ...  In 
any  case,  all  this  proves  nothing;  and  it  is 
very  unlikely  that  she  will  live  long. 

ACHILLE 

Meanwhile  we  must  accept  the  evidence, 
the  happy  evidence,  of  our  senses. 

VIRGINIE 

Yes,  yes,  we  must  believe  it!  There's 
not  a  doubt  left!  I  told  you  he  was  a 
saint,  a  great  saint!  Just  look  at  her! 
She's  alive  and  as  fresh  as  a  rose  in  June ! 

GUSTAVE 

(Going  to  the  bed  and  kissing  MADE- 
MOISELLE HORTENSE.)  Aunt,  my  dear 
aunt,  is  it  really  you? 

ACHILLE 

(Going  to  the  bed.)      Do  you  know  me, 
106 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

aunt?     I     am     Achilla,     your     nephew, 
Achille. 

LEONTINE 

And  me,  auntie?  I  am  your  old  niece 
Leontine. 

VALENTINE 

And  me,  my  dear  godmother,  do  you 
know  me  ?  I  am  little  Valentine,  to  whom 
you  left  all  your  silver. 

GUSTAVE 
She's  smiling. 

ACHILLE 
Not  at  all,  she  looks  displeased. 

GUSTAVE 
But  she  recognizes  us  all. 

ACHILLE 

(Seeing     MADEMOISELLE     HORTENSE 
open  her  mouth  and  move  her  lips.)      Lis- 
ten!    She's  going  to  speak. 
107 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

VIRGINIE 

Heavenly  Father  I  .  .  .  And  she  has 
seen  God!  .  .  .  She'll  tell  us  about  the 
delights  of  Paradise !  .  .  .  On  your  knees  1 
On  your  knees! 

ACHILLE 
Listen !     Listen ! 

MADEMOISELLE  HORTENSE 
(Eyeing  SAINT  ANTHONY  with  scorn 
and  disgust.  In  a  shrill  and  angry  voice.} 
Who  is  this  person?  Who  has  dared  to 
let  a  bare-footed  tramp  into  my  drawing- 
room?  He's  dirtied  all  the  carpets  as  it 
is!  ...  Put  him  out  at  once!  .  .  .  Vir- 
ginie,  how  often  have  I  told  you  not  to  let 
beggars  .  .  . 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Raising  his  hand  imperiously.}  Si- 
lence 1 

108 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

( The  AUNT  stops  suddenly  in  the 
middle  of  her  sentence,  and  sits  up 
open-mouthed,  unable  to  utter  a 
sound.} 

GUSTAVE 

You  must  forgive  her,  she  does  not  yet 
know  how  much  she  owes  you.  But  we, 
we  know.  There's  no  question  but  that 
what  you  have  done  was  more  than  most 
people  could  have  done.  It  may  have 
been  an  accident  or  ...  something  else; 
upon  my  word,  I  don't  know.  But  what 
I  do  know  is  that  I  am  proud  and  happy 
to  shake  you  by  the  hand. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  should  like  to  go,  please.  I  have 
work  to  do. 

GUSTAVE 

Oh,   don't  be   in   such   a   hurry!     We 
can't  let  you  go  like  this.     You  shall  not 
109 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

leave  empty-handed.  I  don't  know  what 
my  aunt  will  give  you:  that's  her  affair:  I 
cannot  promise  anything  in  her  name. 
But,  for  my  part,  I  will  consult  my  brother- 
in-law;  and,  whether  it  be  a  coincidence  or 
.  .  .  something  else,  we  will  pay  for  the 
coincidence  without  quibbling  about  the 
amount;  and  you  shall  have  no  reason  to 
regret  what  you  have  done.  That's  so, 
Achille,  isn't  it? 

ACHILLE 

Certainly,  you  will  not  regret  it,  on  the 
contrary. 

GUSTAVE 

We  are  not  tremendously  well  off;  we 
have  wives  and  children  and  we  have  had 
our  disappointments;  but,  after  all,  we 
know  how  to  recognize  a  kindness;  and,  if 
it  were  only  for  the  honour  of  the  family, 
it  would  never  do  to  have  it  said  that  a 
110 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

stranger,  however  poor,  came  and  did  us 
a  service  without  receiving  a  reward,  a 
decent  reward,  the  best  reward  that  in  us 
lies,  a  reward  in  proportion  to  our  means, 
which,  I  repeat,  are  limited.  .  .  .  Oh,  I 
know,  there  are  services  which  nothing 
can  repay  and  which  are  not  paid  for:  you 
need  not  tell  me  that!  I  know  it,  I  know 
it:  don't  interrupt  me.  But  that's  no 
reason  why  we  should  not  do  something. 
.  .  .  Come,  what  do  you  think  we  owe 
you  ?  Name  your  own  figure.  Of  course, 
you  must  not  ask  for  anything  excessive; 
we  couldn't  give  it  you;  but  whatever 
seems  reasonable  you  shall  have. 

ACHILLE 

My  brother-in-law  is  right:  but,  while 
the  matter  is  arranging,  I  propose  to  make 
a  little  collection  among  ourselves.     That 
111 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

won't  prejudice  you  in  any  way  and  will 
keep  you  going  for  a  time. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  want  to  go  away,  please.  I  have 
other  work  to  do. 

GUSTAVE 

Other  work  to  do!  Other  work  to  do! 
What  work  can  you  have  to  do?  .  .  . 
No,  I  can't  have  that;  and  it's  not  nice  of 
you  to  suggest  it.  What  would  people  say 
if  they  heard  that  we  let  you  go  like  this 
after  restoring  the  dear  departed  to  us? 
If  you  won't  take  money  —  and  I  under- 
stand your  delicacy  of  feeling  and  approve 
of  it  —  at  least  you  will  do  us  the  pleasure 
of  accepting  a  little  keepsake?  Oh,  don't 
be  afraid:  just  a  trifle,  a  cigar-holder,  or 
a  tie-pin,  or  a  meerschaum  pipe.  I  could 
have  your  name  and  address  and  the  date 
engraved  on  it. 

113 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
No,  thank  you.     I  can  accept  nothing. 

Gu  STAVE 
Do  you  mean  that? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
I  do. 

ACHILLE 

(Taking  out  his  cigar-case.)  At  any 
rate,  you  will  do  us  the  pleasure  of  smoking 
a  cigar  with  us.  You  can't  refuse  that. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Thank  you,  I  do  not  smoke. 

GUSTAVE 

You're  most  discouraging.  Still,  what 
would  you  like?  You  must  have  a  wish 
of  some  sort.  You  have  only  to  speak, 
for  everything  is  yours  in  this  house,  which 
you  have  filled  with  gladness.  It's  all 
yours.  I  can't  say  more  than  that.  At 
113 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

least,  all  that  one  can  honestly  part  with. 
.  .  .  Why,  it's  an  insult  to  leave  us  like 
this! 

ACHILLE 

Look  here,  I  have  an  idea  that's  not 
half  bad.  As  our  friend  won't  accept  any- 
thing —  and,  like  my  brother-in-law,  I 
understand  his  delicacy,  of  which,  I  am 
sure,  we  all  approve;  for  life  can't  be  paid 
for  and  has  no  price  —  well,  since  he  has 
shown  a  disinterested  nature  which  at  once 
makes  him  our  equal,  what  I  want  to  know 
is  this:  why  should  he  not  do  us  the  hon- 
our of  sitting  down  with  us  and  helping  us 
finish  a  luncheon  which  he  has  so  happily 
interrupted!  .  .  .  What  do  you  all  say? 
.  .  .  (Murmurs  of  restrained  approval.) 

GUSTAVE 

That's     it!     The    very    thing!     That 
settles  everything!     How  clever  of  you 
114 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

to  think  of  it!  ...  (To  SAINT  AN- 
THONY.) Well,  what  do  you  say?  ... 
By  squeezing  a  bit,  we  can  easily  make 
room  for  you.  You  shall  have  the  seat 
of  honour.  The  partridges  will  be  cold, 
but  no  matter:  you  have  a  good  appetite, 
I  feel  sure!  .  .  .  Well,  that's  arranged, 
eh?  There  will  be  no  ceremony:  we're 
decent  people  and  easy-going,  as  you 
see.  .  .  . 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

No,  really.     You  must  excuse  me.     I'm 
sorry,  I  can't.     I'm  expected  elsewhere. 

GUSTAVE 

Oh,    come,    you   can't   refuse   us    this! 
Besides,  who's  expecting  you? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

Another  corpse. 

115 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

A  corpse!  Another  corpse!  It  won't 
run  away!  Surely  you're  not  going  to  put 
a  corpse  before  us!  To  throw  us  over 
for  a  corpse ! 

ACHILLE 

No,  I  see  what  it  is.  You  would  rather 
go  down  to  the  kitchen,  wouldn't  you? 
You'd  feel  more  comfortable  there. 

GUSTAVE 

Then  he  can  come  up  afterwards  for 
coffee. 

ACHILLE 

Ah,  he's  not  refusing!  He  prefers 
that!  I  understand.  Virginie,  leave  your 
mistress  —  she  doesn't  need  you  now  — 
and  take  the  gentleman  down  to  your 
kitchen.  Give  him  some  of  everything. 
(He  taps  the  SAINT  familiarly  on  the 
stomach.)  Ha,  ha!  You  and  Virginie 
116 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

are  going  to  have  a  jolly  good  time 
together!  I  guessed  right,  didn't  I,  you 
old  rogue  you!  You  old  sly-boots  1 

VIRGINIE 
(In  a  voice  of  alarm.}     Sir! 

GU  STAVE 

What  is  it? 

VIRGINIE 

I  don't  know,  but  Mademoiselle  Hor- 
tense  has  lost  her  speech  again. 

Gu  STAVE 
What?     She's  lost  her  speech? 

VIRGINIE 

Yes,  sir,  look.  .  .  .  She's  opening  her 
mouth  and  moving  her  lips  and  working 
her  hands  but  her  voice  has  gone. 

Gu  STAVE 

What  is  it,  aunt?     Is  there  something 
117 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

you  want  to  tell  us?  (She  nods  assent.) 
And  you  can't?  There,  there,  make  an 
effort;  it's  a  temporary  paralysis,  that's 
all.  It  will  soon  pass.  (She  makes  a 
sign  that  she  can  no  longer  speak.} 
What's  the  matter  with  you?  What  do 
want?  (To  SAINT  ANTHONY.)  What's 
the  meaning  of  this? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
She  will  never  speak  again. 

GUSTAVE 

She  will  never  speak  again?  But  she 
has  been  speaking.  You  heard  her.  She 
even  gave  you  a  piece  of  her  mind. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

It  was  an  oversight  on  my  part.  She 
won't  have  her  voice  again. 

GUSTAVE 

Can't  you  restore  it  to  her? 
118 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
No. 

GUSTAVE 

And  when  will  it  come  back? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Never. 

GUSTAVE 

What!     Will  she  remain  dumb  to  the 
end  of  her  days? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

Yes. 

GUSTAVE 
Why? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

She  has  beheld  mysteries  which  she  may 
not  reveal. 

GUSTAVE 

Mysteries?     What  mysteries? 
119 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
The  mysteries  of  the  dead. 

Gu  STAVE 

The  mysteries  of  the  dead?  This  is 
a  fresh  joke.  What  do  you  take  us  for? 
No,  no,  my  lad,  this  won't  do !  She 
spoke;  we  all  heard  her;  we  have  wit- 
nesses. You  have,  of  malice  prepense, 
deprived  her  of  her  power  of  speech,  with 
an  ohject  which  I  am  beginning  to  see 
through.  You'll  just  restore  it  at  once, 
or  ... 

ACHILLE 

It  was  really  not  worth  while  bringing 
her  back  to  life,  to  give  her  to  us  in  this 
condition. 

GUSTAVE 

If  you  could  not  give  her  back  to  us  as 
she  was  before  your  stupid  and  clumsy 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

interference,  you  would  have  done  better 
not  to  have  meddled. 

ACHILLE 
It  was  a  bad  action. 

GUSTAVE 
An  abuse  of  confidence. 

ACHILLE 

An  abuse  of  confidence:  that's  what  it 
was.     There  is  no  excuse  for  it. 

GUSTAVE 

You're  expecting  to  blackmail  us,  per- 
haps? 

ACHILLE 

I  suppose  you  think  you're  dealing  with 
a  pack  of  fools? 

GUSTAVE 

Who  asked  you  to  come?     I  hate  say- 
ing it,  but  I  would  rather  see  her  dead 
121 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

than  have  her  back  in  this  state.  It's 
too  cruel,  too  painful  for  those  who  love 
her.  You  can't  come  like  this,  under  the 
pretence  of  working  a  miracle,  and  disturb 
the  peace  of  the  people  who  have  done  you 
no  harm,  bringing  unhappiness  upon  them! 
A  nice  thing.  But  he  laughs  best  who 
laughs  last! 

THE  DOCTOR 

Allow  me.  Calm  yourselves.  The 
man  has  done  wrong,  there's  no  doubt  of 
that;  but  we  must  not  blame  him:  he  is 
probably  unaccountable  for  his  actions. 
(Going  up  to  SAINT  ANTHONY.)  Just  let 
me  examine  your  eyes,  my  friend.  That's 
it:  I  knew  it!  I  would  not  interfere  while 
everybody  was  thanking  him,  much  too 
cordially,  for  the  miraculous  resurrection 
which  he  had  wrought.  I  did  not  wish  to 
appear  to  meddle  with  what  does  not  con- 
122 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

cern  me.  1  knew  what  was  what;  and 
you  see,  as  I  do,  that  she  was  not  dead  at 
all.  There  is  nothing  supernatural  or 
mysterious  about  all  this.  It  simply  means 
that  the  fellow  possesses  rather  unusual 
hypnotic  powers;  and  he  has  abused  them, 
in  order  to  indulge  in  a  hoax  which  may 
be  self-interested  and  which,  in  any  case, 
is  out  of  place.  He  came  at  the  right; 
moment,  that  is  all;  and  it  is  highly 
probable  that,  had  he  not  been  here,  you 
and  I  would  have  worked  the  miracle,  if 
miracle  there  be. 

GUSTAVE 
Well,  what  are  we  to  do? 

THE  DOCTOR 

Why,  prevent  him  from  doing  further 
mischief  by  having  him  locked  up!  The 
man's  dangerous! 

123 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

You're  right;  we  must  put  a  stop  to  this; 
besides,  I've  had  enough  of  it.  .  .  . 
Joseph ! 

JOSEPH 
Sir? 

GUSTAVE 

Run  to  the  police-station  at  the  corner; 
fetch  two  policemen;  tell  them  to  bring  a 
pair  of  handcuffs  with  them.  He's  a  dan- 
gerous fellow  and  capable  of  everything, 
as  he  has  shown  us  only  too  plainly. 

JOSEPH 
Very  well,  sir.      (He  runs  out.) 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
I  beg  leave  to  withdraw. 

GUSTAVE 

That's  right,  old  chap,  play  the  innocent. 
It's  time  you  did.     Yes,  you  can  withdraw; 
124 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

and   with   a    first-class    escort.      You   just 

wait  and  see. 

(Enter  JOSEPH,  followed  by  a  SER- 
GEANT or  POLICE  and  a  POLICE- 
MAN.) 

THE  SERGEANT 

(Pointing    to    SAINT   ANTHONY.)     Is 
this  the  criminal? 

GUSTAVE 
That's  the  man. 

THE  SERGEANT 

(Touching    SAINT    ANTHONY    on    the 
shoulder.)      Where  are  your  papers? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
What  papers? 

POLICEMAN 

You  haven't  any?     I  knew  it.     What's 
your  name? 

125 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
Saint  Anthony. 

THE  SERGEANT 

Saint  what?  Saint  Anthony?  That's 
no  name  for  a  Christian.  I  want  the 
other,  your  real  name. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
(Fery  gently.}      I  have  no  other. 

THE  SERGEANT 

Keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head,  will 
you?  Where  did  you  steal  that  dressing- 
gown? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  didn't  steal  it.     It's  mine. 
126 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

THE  SERGEANT 

Then  it's  I  who  am  lying?  Is  that 
what  you  mean?  Say  it;  don't  mind  me! 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  don't  know.  I  think  .  .  .  Perhaps 
you  are  mistaken. 

THE  SERGEANT 

I'm  making  a  note  of  your  impertinent 
observations.  .  .  .  Where  do  you  hail 
from  ? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

From  Padua. 


THE  SERGEANT 

Padua?     Where's  that?     What  depart- 
ment? 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 
It's  in  Italy. 

THE  SERGEANT 

I  know,  I  know.  I  wanted  to  make  him 
say  it.  So  you're  an  Italian.  I  thought 
as  much.  Where  did  you  last  come  from  ? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
From  Paradise. 

THE  SERGEANT 

What  Paradise?  Where  is  that  land 
of  malefactors? 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

It  is  the  place  to  which  the  souls  of  those 
who  have  died  in  the  Lord  ascend  after 
their  death. 

128 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

THE  SERGEANT 

I  see,  I  see,  I  understand!  You're 
coming  the  artful  over  me !  You're  pull- 
ing my  leg!  First  you're  impudent  and 
now  you're  being  clever!  Very  well,  your 
case  is  quite  clear :  we'll  soon  settle  it.  ... 
(To  Gustave.}  Let's  hear  what  he  has 
done.  What  has  he  stolen? 

GUSTAVE 

I  can't  yet  say  for  certain  that  he  has 
stolen  anything;  I  haven't  had  time  to  take 
stock  of  things;  and  I  don't  like  to  accuse 
him  without  being  sure.  We  must  be  just 
before  all  things.  But  he  has  done  some- 
thing more  serious. 

THE  SERGEANT 

I  never  doubted  it. 
129 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

You  know  the  loss  which  we  have 
suffered.  While  we  were  mourning  the 
dear  departed  and  finishing  our  lunch,  he 
made  his  way  into  the  house  under  some 
pretext  or  other,  with  intentions  which  you 
can  easily  guess.  He  took  advantage  of 
the  maid's  simplicity  and  credulousness  to 
have  the  door  opened  of  the  room  where 
the  body  was  laid  out.  He  obviously 
hoped  to  turn  our  disorder  and  grief  to 
account  in  order  to  fish  in  troubled  waters 
and  make  a  haul.  He  may  have  learnt 
through  an  accomplice  that  our  aunt's 
jewels  and  silver  were  put  out  on  the 
mantelpiece.  Unfortunately  for  him,  our 
aunt  was  not  dead.  And,  suddenly,  seeing 
this  repellent  figure  in  her  room,  she  woke 
up,  cried  out  and  spoke  to  him  roundly 
and  pluckily.  Then,  to  take  revenge  for 
130 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

his  discomfiture,  I  don't  know  how  —  the 
doctor  will  explain  —  he  deprived  her  of 
the  use  of  her  speech;  and,  notwithstanding 
our  entreaties,  he  refuses  to  restore  it  to 
her,  naturally  hoping  to  make  us  pay 
through  the  nose.  Mind  you,  I  am  mak- 
ing no  accusations;  I  am  simply  stating  the 
facts.  As  for  the  rest,  you  can  ask  the 
doctor. 

THE  DOCTOR 

I  will  furnish  all  the  necessary  explana- 
tions before  the  Commissary;  if  he  wishes 
it,  I  will  draw  up  a  report. 

ACHILLE 

Meanwhile,  there's  no  mistake  about  it : 
he's  either  a  criminal  or  a  madman,  per- 
haps both.     In  any  case,  he's  a  dangerous 
person  who  must  absolutely  be  locked  up. 
131 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

THE  SERGEANT 

That's  quite  clear.  We'll  get  rid  of 
him  for  you.  (To  the  POLICEMAN.) 
Rabutteau ! 

POLICEMAN 
Yes,  Sergeant. 

THE  SERGEANT 
The  handcuffs. 

GUSTAVE 

Sergeant,  it  was  very  good  of  you  and 
your  mate  to  come  round.  Before  leaving 
us,  you  must  do  us  the  pleasure  of  taking 
a  glass  of  something  with  us. 

THE  SERGEANT 

We  won't  say  no  to  that,  eh,  Rabutteau  ? 
132 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

Especially   as  the  prisoner  looks   like   a 
tough  customer. 

GUSTAVE 

Joseph,  bring  a  bottle  and  some  glasses. 
(Exit  JOSEPH.)  We  will  all  drink  to  my 
aunt's  recovery. 

THE  SERGEANT 
It'll  do  us  no  harm  in  this  weather. 

GUSTAVE 
Is  it  still  raining? 

THE  SERGEANT 

In  torrents.     I've  only  come  the  length 
of  the  street;  look  at  my  cape. 

133 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

POLICEMAN 

You  can't  tell  if  it's  raining  or  snowing, 
but  it's  worse  than  either. 

(Enter  JOSEPH  with  a  tray  filled  with 
glasses,  which  he  hands  round.) 

THE  SERGEANT 

(Raising  his  glass.)  Ladies  and  gentle- 
men, your  very  good  health  1 

GUSTAVE 

(Touching  glasses  with  the  SERGEANT.) 
Sergeant,  your  health!  (They  all  touch 
glasses  with  the  SERGEANT.)  Have  an- 
other? 

THE  SERGEANT 

I    don't   mind.      (Smacking    his    lips.) 
That's  good  wine,  that  isl 
134 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I'm  thirsty.  I  should  like  a  glass  of 
water. 

THE  SERGEANT 

(Grinning.)  A  glass  of  water !  D'ye 
hear  him?  You  shall  have  some  water, 
my  lad;  you  wait  till  we're  outside;  it'll 
come  pouring  into  your  mouth.  .  .  . 
Come,  we've  hung  around  long  enough. 
.  .  .  Rabutteau,  the  handcuffs;  and  you, 
put  out  your  hands  .  .  . 

SAINT  ANTHONY 
But  I  haven't  .  .  . 

THE  SERGEANT 

What!     Resistance       and       protests! 
135 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

That's  the  last  straw !     They're  all  alike  1 
(A  ring  at  the  front-door.) 

GUSTAVE 

A  ring  at  the  belli  (JOSEPH  goes 
to  the  front-door.)  What's  the  time? 
Perhaps  it's  the  first  guests. 

ACHILLE 

Hardly.  It's  not  three  yet.  (Enter 
the  COMMISSARY  OF  POLICE.)  Hallo,  it's 
Monsieur  Mitrou,  the  Commissary  of 
Police ! 

THE  COMMISSARY 

Good  afternoon,  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
I  heard  .  .  .  (Catching  sight  of  SAINT 
ANTHONY.)  Why,  I  thought  as  much: 
it's  Saint  Anthony  himself,  the  great  Saint 
Anthony  of  Padua!  .  .  . 
136 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 
You  know  him,  then? 

THE  COMMISSARY 

Know  him  ?  I  should  think  I  did  know 
him !  It's  the  third  time  that  he's  escaped. 
.  .  .  You  know,  he's  a  little  .  .  .  (He 
taps  his  forehead  with  his  finger.}  And 
at  each  escape  he  does  the  same  tricks :  he 
cures  the  sick,  heals  cripples,  practises 
medicine  without  a  license  —  in  short, 
commits  a  number  of  illegal  actions  .  .  . 
(Goes  up  to  SAINT  ANTHONY  and  exam- 
ines him  more  attentively.}  Yes,  it's 
he  ...  Or  at  least  .  .  .  But  he  has 
changed  a  good  deal  since  his  last 
escapade.  .  .  .  Anyway,  if  it's  not  he,  it 
must  be  his  brother.  .  .  .  There's  some- 
thing that's  not  quite  clear  to  me.  We'll 
look  into  it  at  the  police-station.  Come 
137 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

along,  I'm  in  a  hurry;  come  along,  lads, 
quick,  to  the  station,  to  the  station  1 

GUSTAVE 

Better  let  him  out  this  way,  through  the 
garden;  it'll  attract  less  notice.  ( JOSEPH 
opens  the  garden  door,  admitting  a  whirl 
of  rain,  sleet  and  wind.} 

ACHILLE 

Brrr,  what  weather  I  It's  raining, 
snowing,  hailing!  (They  push  SAINT 
ANTHONY  to  the  door.) 

VIRGINIE 

(Running    up.)      But,    sir,     the    poor 
man!  .  .  .  Look,  he's  barefooted! 
138 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

Well,  what  of  it?  Do  you  want  us  to 
send  for  a  carriage?  Or  a  shrine,  per- 
haps? 

VlRGINIE 

No,  I'll  lend  him  my  sabots.  Take 
them,  Saint  Anthony;  I  have  another  pair. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Putting  on  the  sabots.)  Thank  you. 
(His  halo  lights  up.) 

VlRGINIE 

And  are  you  putting  nothing  on  your 
head?  You'll  catch  cold. 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

I  haven't  anything. 
139 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

VIRGINIE 

Take  my  little  shawl.  I'll  run  and  fetch 
you  my  umbrella.  (She  hurries  out.) 

ACHILLE 
The  old  fool. 

GUSTAVE 

This  is  all  very  well,  but  meanwhile 
we're  standing  in  the  devil  of  a  draught. 
.  .  .  Come,  take  him  to  the  station  and 
let's  have  an  end  of  this. 

VIRGINIE 

(Returning  with  an  enormous  umbrella, 
which  she  offers  to  SAINT  ANTHONY.) 
Here's  my  umbrella. 

140 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

SAINT  ANTHONY 

(Showing  his  hands.)  They've  fast- 
ened my  hands. 

VlRGINIE 

I'll  hold  it  for  you.  (Standing  on  the 
threshold,  she  opens  the  umbrella  to  shelter 
SAINT  ANTHONY,  who  goes  out  between 
the  two  POLICEMEN,  followed  by  the  COM- 
MISSARY. The  SAINT'S  halo  shines  under 
the  umbrella;  and  the  group  moves  away 
over  the  snow  in  the  garden.) 

GUSTAVE 

(Closing  the  door.)     At  last! 

ACHILLE 

A  good  riddance  to  bad  rubbish  1 
141 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 
'(Going  to  the  bed.}     Well,  aunt? 

ACHILLE 

What's   the    matter   with    her?     She's 
sinking,  she's  falling  back  on  the  bed ! 

THE  DOCTOR 

(Hurrying   forward.}      I    don't   know 
.  .  .  I'm  afraid  .  .  . 

GUSTAVE 

(Leaning  over  the  bed.)     Aunt,  aunt! 
.  .  .  Well? 

THE  DOCTOR 

This  time  she  is  really  dead.     I  told 
you  so. 

142 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 
Impossible ! 

ACHILLE 

But,     doctor,     look    here!     Is    there 
nothing  to  be  done? 

THE  DOCTOR 

Nothing  at  all,  I  fear. 

(A   pause   during  which   all  gather 
round  the  bed.) 

GUSTAVE 

(The  first  to  recover  his  self-possess- 
ion.)    What  a  day!  .  .  . 

ACHILLE 

Hark  to  the  storm !  .  .  . 
143 


The  Miracle  of  Saint  Anthony 

GUSTAVE 

After  all,  we  were  a  little  unkind  to  the 
poor  beggar.  If  you  come  to  think  of  it, 
he  really  did  us  no  harm  I 


CURTAIN 


144 


Id  2. 
F  2  8  19S 

,EC  15  1959 


Form  I.-9-20m-8,'37 


.,^,?.0.1JJ.H.SN  REGIONA1.  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  207  965 


